


After Rain

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Just Say Lass [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Comfort Sex, Denial of Feelings, Divorce, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Friendship, From Sex to Love, Getting to Know Each Other, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Male Solo, Masturbation, Minor Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Modern Girl in Thedas, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, OC is a Hot Mess, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, POV Rylen, Sex Before Feelings, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Strong Female Characters, fast burn, for one of them, lots of brotps, occasionally, or at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: Abigail Henderson just wanted more out of life as everything began to fall apart - a chance to start over, a chance to be herself again.When she ends up in Thedas she finds more than she bargained for - as does the former Templar who finds himself fascinated by the woman from a place called Earth.





	1. Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Abby's [Face Claim](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/41/9d/a7/419da740740ee8f9f0892df607f0ae0b.jpg)
> 
> The song at the beginning of the chapter (for some mood music, for you): [The Break-Up Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgbsEz15SGg) by Greg Kihn Band.

“ _We had broken up for good, just an hour before, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, ahhhh_!” Abby sang, stomping on the wood beneath her with a heel.

Her lips were buzzing, tingling, and she licked them before she smiled and threw her arms in the air, twirling her hands above her head.

She was free – free, free, _free_.

Or at least, she would be soon.

_Fuck him._

_Fuck him and the shitty horse he rode in on._

“ _It was the same old song, with a melancholy sound, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah, aaah_!” she continued, swaying her hips.

“Ma’am -”

But she ignored the call.

Around her people were laughing, cheering, she heard a few jeers. And she didn’t give a fuck.

When was the last time she felt like this? When was the last time she felt wild and free, just like she always had been, how she had always felt inside?

“ _Mmmm, now I wind up staring at an empty glass_ ,” she sang loudly, and the small crowd laughed and cheered a bit. Someone pressed a beer into her hand and it sloshed when she took it, but eagerly she clutched her hand around it with a laugh. “ _’Cos it’s so easy to say, that she’ll forget your past, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah, ahh!_ ”

She continued gyrating her hips, trying to steady herself on her stilettos as she began to chug the beer in her hand. The table she was on was a bit unsteady, but somehow she loved that. It felt dangerous, unsafe, yet exhilarating.

She felt alive again, she felt like maybe she could regain herself.

_Fuck him._

_I should have known, I was smarter than this, I should have known –_

But she cut off the thought and drained the rest of the beer, still dancing rowdily on the table she was standing on.

The bartender had tried to tell her to get down, but she just kept dancing, not caring at all if they were angry she was scuffing up the top of the table. The crowd was dancing around it, and Abby shrugged out of her leather jacket and held it one hand, swinging it around her head.

 _Free_.

The word was echoing in her mind, the only thing she could really focus on. She’d had too much whiskey, her vision blurred and her every action loose and clumsy.

But for once, being drunk felt good – it didn’t feel like torture, it didn’t feel like an escape. She felt happy, not like she was dying. She wasn’t staring at a clock to wait for him to come home, she wasn’t drinking a whole bottle by herself.

Instead she was dancing.

She could do this, she could be on her own again. She could start over.

Even if at the moment she had no idea how to even try.

The song ended and she stopped dancing, lowering the arm that had been swinging her jacket over her head. Jeers met the end of the song and she giggled, taking a silly bow and a mocking curtsy.

Hands reached up to pull her off the table and she laughed, letting them lift her safely to the ground.

“It’s closing time.”

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here?” Abby laughed, setting aside the empty beer mug.

“You’ve had enough to drink – need me to call you a cab?”

It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust and she realized it was the bartender, and he looked annoyed.

She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, pushing off his chest and stumbling a bit as she moved to grab her purse. She dug for her wallet, past the divorce papers she’d just been served, past her keys and her phone, trying to find the cash to pay.

“You had a lot of shots bought for you, it wasn’t this much -” the bartender tried to push some of the cash in her hand back at her.

She laughed and held it out more insistently. “Keep the change. Thanks for letting me dance on your table, I needed some fun.”

The man gave an incoherent grumble in response.

It maybe wasn’t the smartest idea to leave such a large tip, considering she was about to be out on her own again. But she winked at him and pulled her leather jacket back on before she grabbed her purse and began to walk to the door.

Catching a cab would be difficult this time of night on a Monday, in this part of town. Sighing a bit she hurried along the sidewalk, intending to make it to the next big intersection.

_Time to get out of here, time to go home._

_Where is home now though?_

_Guess I’ll have to figure that out…_

A scream suddenly rent the air, echoing as if across a distance or from a dream, and Abby stopped walking, her skin prickling at the sound.

Another sounded, slightly more desperately, and she almost thought she heard voices echoing the same way as the screams.

Looking around she realized she was completely alone, not a soul in sight on the streets. Farther away from her was a glowing green, almost like a neon sign.

_Maybe it was coming from over there?_

She hesitated one more second, trying to clear her foggy, drunk mind as she tried to decide what to do. But the sounds had been so urgent, and no one else was around.

Clutching her purse more tightly to her she hurried as fast as she could toward the green light, but her feet were unsteady and the sidewalk was uneven.

As she got closer her heel caught on something and she lurched, unable to catch herself –

A flash of green – and then blackness.

 

* * *

 

_“No wait – I think she’s alive!”_

_“Please, my child – we must get out of here!”_

_“No I won’t leave her – she doesn’t belong here anymore than we do!”_

Something soft tickled her face, and then she felt something brushing aside the top of her black camisole. When it made contact with the skin below her collarbone, though, she felt a jolt, like electricity coursing through her.

She cried out and sat up as if she had been shocked back to life, but her veins were still buzzing. Something felt different.

“Wh-where am I?” Abby muttered, looking around and trying to take in her surroundings.

Green and black smoke was swirling above her, and she appeared to be on the wall, and not on the ground. Everything was craggy, jagged rocks. It almost reminded her of something she’d seen in a game, but that wasn’t possible.

Was it?

“Are you – are you all right? Can you hear me?” a soft voice said from beside her, and she glanced over.

“What the _fuck?_ ”

It was a face she recognized, a face she knew so well. And yet there wasn’t a chance, _she_ shouldn’t be here.

Not in the flesh, staring at her with a concerned frown on her face.

Long black hair was pulled back in a braid that hung over her shoulder, starkly contrasted against a pale face with full pink lips. The large eyes, though, gave it away. The irises were almost white, translucent, and immediately she knew she had to be either dreaming or dead.

“I’m fucking dead, aren’t I?” Abby asked, looking around herself once more.

Standing not far from them, behind the woman who shouldn’t exist, was a woman in white robes and a tall white hat.

“Yeah, definitely dead.”

“No, you’re not,” the young woman said in her soft voice again. “But if we don’t get out of here quickly, that might change. Can you stand?”

Abby sat flabbergasted for a few more moments, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. She was still drunk, she could tell.

_Maybe someone drugged me._

_I must be tripping._

“Please we need to hurry,” the young woman tugged her arm, and Abby let herself be pulled to her feet.

She was even more unsteady on the uneven, rocky ground, but somehow struggling to walk helped her realize this was reality.

Either that or the afterlife felt a lot like being alive.

“Hurry!” the woman in white robes called, and the young woman beside Abby grabbed her hand and pulled her after her.

“What – what are we -”

“We have to get out of here, come along,” the woman insisted, and her fingers tightened on Abby’s.

Figures were approaching in her periphery and she tried to look around as she ran, but she stumbled and the other woman caught her.

“Who are – what is -” Abby began, but she cut off.

The figures were _her_ , but they weren’t actually her. She saw herself, dozens of replicas of herself, but wearing pink, and gold. Pearl necklaces around her neck, her hair pulled into a bun. She looked like someone else’s idea of perfection.

And her heart sped up as she took in the plastered smile on the many identical faces, the forced happiness.

“John will be so happy,” a chorus of voices said, and her skin crawled.

“Are you – are you seeing this?”

“We have to get away from the corpses!” the young woman cried, and she slipped a bit on the rocks as they swerved to avoid one of the approaching demons.

_Demons, that’s right._

If she was where she thought she was, then these were demons. This was the Fade.

_How the fuck am I here?_

But she could hardly think beyond that as they raced across the rocky terrain. They were approaching a pulsating, twisting green light, and their pace intensified as they tried desperately to reach it.

Her feet ached from the way her stilettos pounded on the hard ground, but she pushed herself. If this was real, it this was really happening…

And it was – and it all happened so fast.

Trying to escape the demons, trying to reach the rift, and the demons caught the Divine no matter how quickly they ran.

Abby had seen this happen, so many times. She knew the end, she knew what to expect. But watching it unfold, watching as the Inquisitor – the Herald – _Evelyn_ reacted as the Divine was left behind was a different matter entirely.

Evelyn slumped into her as they fell out of the rift, and Abby wrapped her arms around the younger woman.

If this was a dream, it was the most authentic she had ever experienced, considering the pain she felt as her knees collided with hard rock. Evelyn fell limp against her, a deadweight as she lost consciousness from the pain the Anchor was causing her.

Cries and shouts sounded around them and she tightened her hold on Evelyn as she looked up. Her mind was still fuzzy, though running had helped sharpen it until she almost felt sober, but the feeling of surreality stayed with her.

Especially when she looked up and saw another familiar face glowering down at her.

Aqua eyes moved over the sight of the two women who had just emerged from the Fade, dark face tattoos almost hidden by a layer of stubble and grime.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” the heavily Starkhaven accented burr greeted her.


	2. Blasted

Everything was a blasted disaster.

Chaos was reigning and for the last few hours Rylen hadn’t been able to catch his breath, moving from one crisis to another.

He was already weary, but he could tell there was only going to be more to do.

The Conclave destroyed, everyone dead, and a hole in the sky that was swirling green, with demons pouring out of it all over the hills?

That alone was enough to make a man just want to fall to his knees in prayer out of sheer desperation. He was practical though, and knew hard work was needed, so he pushed himself to carry on and not think about how daunting everything was.

But now he was faced with two wee lasses, who seemed to have just fallen out of one of the green tears in the air, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of them.

One was unconscious, wearing mage robes that seemed to be the colors of the Circle of Ostwick. The other, though, was wearing clothes he’d never seen before. They seemed similar to articles of clothing in Thedas, but they were cut differently, the materials unfamiliar to him.

A coat, it seemed, that was black leather with metal studs in places, but it didn’t seem to be armor. Grey pants that were a sturdy material he’d never seen, and incredibly fitted without providing any sort of armored protection, like the coat. Her shoes reminded him of things he’d seen puffed up, batty nobles wearing, meaning they were thoroughly impractical considering the circumstances.

When he got closer she turned her face up to look at him, and for a moment he simply stared.

Chocolate brown eyes were staring up at him, and he expected them to be widened with fear, but instead she almost looked determined.

Feisty.

Her arms tightened where she held the other woman, and she set her jaw as she glared up at him, almost as if in a challenge.

“Where did you come from?” he demanded again, looking between the women kneeling on the ground before him.

They didn’t look related at all, and they were dressed so differently he couldn’t believe that they were both from a Circle. And yet chocolate eyes were holding his as if she was ready to defend the woman she held until her last breath.

“Does it really matter where, right now?” she snapped. Her accent was strange, unfamiliar, and yet she was speaking fluent Common. “She needs help, please, I think she’s -”

“Is she injured, lass?” he asked, frowning as he let his eyes roam over her to inspect for injuries.

“Her – her hand, something’s – I don’t know, but she’s unconscious, isn’t she?” she gestured at the woman’s left hand, and he finally saw it.

It was glowing green, sparks coming from it as well in crackling _pops_. He could feel it in the air and he realized there was magic emanating from the woman’s palm.

“Was she casting a spell? Did she cause this? Did you?” he asked, raising his sword slightly again.

“No, we fucking _didn’t_ – now please, just get her help,” she cried.

“I -” he hesitated for a moment, and then relented and lowered his sword.

Despite the green mark’s magic, they seemed like just two defenseless women. Even if there was magic, he was a Templar, and there were others behind him.

They could contain it.

Sheathing his sword he focused on the dwindling supply of lyrium he could feel inside himself and cast a Silence on the area, hoping to try to contain the wild magic he could feel in the air.

To his surprise, it did nothing for the green mark.

But the other woman’s eyes widened and she spluttered, raising a hand to her chest as if she was in pain.

“What the fuck – I – I can’t breathe,” she gasped, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

If she was feeling that, though, then that meant –

“Are you a mage as well, lass?” he asked as he took several steps forward.

“N-no, I couldn’t be – I’m not even from – please, it hurts like hell,” she told him, looking up at him imploringly.

“Hell?” he asked, the word completely foreign to him. “Where are you -”

“It doesn’t really matter does it? Jesus Christ just let me -”

“Jaysus?” he repeated.

“For fuck’s sake,” she gritted out, and to his amazement she began to push herself up, dragging the other woman with her, an arm pulled around her shoulders.

She struggled though, since they were nearly the same height, which was not even up to under his arm. The shoes she was wearing made it even more difficult and she stumbled slightly but managed not to fall.

“Here,” he said, and he ordered someone forward to take the unconscious woman from her.

“About damn time, moron,” she told him with a glare.

“I – lass you’re coming with me,” he reached out and grabbed her wrist, but she shrieked and hit his arm.

“Let go of me, I didn’t do anything -”

“You just walked out of a hole in the sky with another mage,” he pointed out, his grip tightening on her wrist as he attempted to lead her away. “You’re awake, we’ll need to question you -”

“Get off, you ass, I – stop it, just -” she continued ranting at him, her free hand trying to pull his fingers apart so she could slip out of his grasp. “And I’m _not_ a mage -”

“I beg to differ, lass,” he chuckled despite himself. “I can feel the lyrium in your veins, and my Silence is working on you -”

“Speaking of, it still hurts like a bitch -”

“Do you know any words besides curses?” he teased, still pulling her behind him as they made their way through the burning charred ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Ahead of them a soldier was carrying the unconscious woman, walking quickly.

“Of course I do, the curses are just my favorite,” she quipped, but her voice sounded strained. “Is this fucking Silence really necessary? I – my blood hurts, is that normal?”

Rylen glanced over his shoulder and took in the look in her eyes. She finally looked scared, or perhaps just pained.

An untrained mage, or one who didn’t realize she was one was dangerous. He couldn’t take the risk.

“Sorry, lass,” he told her.

“Lass?” she questioned, but there was an odd catch in her voice when she said it.

“Aye, that’s what you are,” he told her with a laugh.

“Can you walk slower – _lad_?” she snapped, trying to pull her wrist back out of his grasp.

“What are you doing in those shoes? They’re hardly fit for battle.”

“I wasn’t doing _battle_ I was dancing -”

“Dancing? And then you fell out of a hole in the sky?”

“Accurate summary,” she grumbled. “Now please, slow the fuck down -”

“That’s it,” he sighed, and he stopped walking. Turning to face her he stooped and grabbed her around her legs before he flung her over his shoulder.

“You ass, put me down!” she shrieked, and he could feel her hitting his armored back with her fists, her feet kicking in the air as she wriggled in his grasp. He tightened his hold on her though and merely continued walking.

“This will be faster, trust me,” he shook his head. The sharp bottoms of her shoes came dangerously close to his face though and he flinched away. “Eh, lass – be careful now, I’d like to keep both eyes.”

“Maybe you should lose one for just throwing a helpless woman over your shoulder like a Neanderthal-”

“Not helpless, it seems. Feisty, maybe – and also untested,” he explained. “You’re a mage -”

“Am not!”

“Aye, you are.”

He could hear her grumbling and swearing, still occasionally hitting his back with her fists. “Where are you taking me?” she asked after a moment.

“There’s a few people who’d like to speak to you, I’m sure,” he answered, but he didn’t elaborate.

The Seeker would want answers, as would Sister Nightingale. If the Commander wasn’t so busy trying to organize their forces in the chaos against the demons, he would be sure to have a few questions as well.

None of this made sense to Rylen, which was frustrating. He wanted things straightforward, easy, fixable. So far there weren’t any easy solutions to any of this.

As much as he should be thinking about how he could approach the next crises, instead he just wanted to think about the smell invading his senses. Spicy vanilla, musk, an almost herbal smoky scent clung to the woman in his arms, and underneath it he felt fairly certain he smelled whiskey.

Maybe that explained the cursing, the way she was reacting. Then again, she seemed almost in shock, and her accent was still thoroughly unrecognizable, like she wasn’t from anywhere nearby.

He couldn’t tell what he thought of her, but he was intrigued. The image of chocolate eyes staring up at him with such determination, short dark hair surrounding a pretty pale face kept swimming to the front of his mind.

_Are you just an eager young lad? Keep it together, mate._

He shook himself and tried not to get distracted. There was too much to do, and so the rest of the walk back to Haven he was silent and disciplined. She still struggled and grumbled but also seemed to have accepted her fate. He felt the small bag she carried hitting against his back as it swung with his steps, as if she was letting herself hang listlessly.

“So do you really not know how you came to be in that hole in the sky?” he asked finally as they passed through the gates of Haven.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she muttered, and heaved a sigh.

“Where are you from?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

But silence met his words, and he frowned. Before he could try again soldiers hurried forward, clamoring for directions, and he lost himself in barking orders at the men.

The soldier carrying the other woman he directed to the healer’s cabin, the other men he sent to help defend the front with the Commander. The whole time he gave orders he felt her shifting, as if she was trying to look around them.

“Holy fuck,” he heard her mutter, and she sounded almost stunned.

“What was that, lass?”

Again, silence.

Heaving a sigh he marched through the village toward the Chantry, noticing the terrified cries and stares of the villagers as he passed. Many of them were still staring up at the sky, praying and sobbing.

_Maker, it looks like the end of the whole blasted world._

Not if he could do anything about it, though, and he found himself hoping maybe the woman in his grasp would be able to tell them something to help.


	3. 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

Sleep was impossible to find.

Between the hard stone floor, the manacles on her wrists, the stilettos still on her feet, and suddenly intense and frightening nightmares when she did drift off, she couldn’t seem to find a moment’s peace.

The first night was the worst. No matter how intimidating Cassandra had seemed on a screen, it was nothing compared to how intimidating she was in person. It had taken everything in Abby not to break down and cry or beg, and instead keep her cool.

And after she’d been threatened with death, had been grilled for hours about how and why she ended up in the Fade with Evelyn or if she knew anything about the Conclave, she was left alone in a cell.

Leliana had convinced Cassandra to let her live, at least until they knew whether or not the Herald, or rather, not the Herald yet, would live. Whether or not she could fix everything.

Honestly Abby had been struggling not to laugh during parts of the interrogation as well. Where was she? How did she get here?

She had still been convinced she was tripping, that someone had maybe drugged that beer she’d been passed at the bar. But as time wore on, as she sobered up and the hangover took over, she began to realize that she actually was in Thedas.

Real, actual, somehow not just a fictional video game on Earth, Thedas.

When she fell asleep on the ground and wandered the Fade for the very first time, she had woken screaming from her dreams.

She hadn’t let herself sleep since.

They no longer had her under a constant Silence, but instead they had her under a constant watch. A Templar was always sitting near her cell, and some of them glared at her, clearly suspicious and ready to make a move at any moment.

Others, like Lysette, were wary but polite.

The hours passed torturously, and she was beginning to think she was going crazy. Stuck here in a cell, in a world she hadn’t thought possible, waiting to see if they would kill her. Trying to push those thoughts aside, she instead decided she was just bored and not terrified.

That was all.

There was nothing to do, and so she sang songs to entertain herself, and sometimes she tried to come up with words to describe the cell she was stuck in.

_If I was writing this as a scene…_

She closed her eyes, trying to think it through, trying to imagine what she’d want to happen if she were to write this.

Abby was walking through her house, wearing the black satin nightie she loved. Music was coming from further in, something like jazz, and she smiled when she realized candles were lit on the dining table.

“I’ve been waiting for you, gorgeous,” John said, and she saw him standing beside the table pouring a glass of red wine. His wavy salt and pepper hair was shining in the candlelight, and when she got closer his grey eyes gleamed at her.

“You did this for me, John?” she smiled and took the glass from him.

“Of course,” he gave her his usual dazzling, perfect white grin. “I love you. I want to fix things, I want us to work. If you just –”

A loud metal _clunk_ sounded and Abby sat up with a jolt, looking around.

“Sorry, lass – I didn’t mean to wake you,” a deep burr greeted her.

She groaned and leaned back against the wall again, cursing that she had fallen asleep.

_Was that a demon? Did a demon just try to tempt me?_

_Of course – of course it would be fucking Desire._

“It’s fine,” she grumbled, realizing he was standing at the bars of the cell, staring at her as he waited for her to talk to him. “Don’t you have something more important to do than watch a helpless woman sit, bored out of her fucking mind in a cell?”

“Even I can take a break from fighting demons,” Rylen sighed, and he removed his helmet and ran his hands through his hair. Chestnut colored, almost wavy even though it was flattened from wearing his helmet for what was possibly days. In the torchlight it shone reddish gold, and for a moment she almost forgot to be tired or wary.

“Have they – have they fed you, lass? Given you water?” his brows furrowed slightly as he looked around her cell like he was taking in and evaluating its conditions. She watched as his eyes roamed over the small cell, noticing the lack of blankets or pillows, the dampness on the stones, the small bucket in a corner that she had to ask to be unshackled to use. And every time she had asked to relieve herself, she’d been placed under a painful Silence.

“Um – not today,” she sighed, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach again, the way her hands were shaking. So far, they’d only really fed her once a day. Or so she thought, considering she had no way of telling how much time had passed.

_How long have I been down here? How long have I been fighting sleep and just waiting for them to decide I’m useless?_

_I ended up in Thedas just to die a few days in._

_I am useless._

“They – blasted useless the lot of them,” he grumbled, and he threw his helmet aside, the impact of the metal echoing through the dungeon. Without another word he suddenly marched away from the cell, his strides quick and determined.

_Knight-Captain Rylen is here, asking if you ate, if you’re okay – calling you lass._

_What is going on?_

He was more attractive than she had pictured him, tall and broad and almost roguishly handsome. There was intelligence and wit evident behind his piercing aqua eyes, and she kept having to remind herself to focus.

She was in danger; she’d ended up in a strange land, which she had to keep reminding herself of. It was just so surreal, since everything was so familiar. Sometimes she forgot she wasn’t just playing a game.

Firm footsteps echoed through the dungeon again and she looked up to see Rylen walking back toward her. When he reached the cell door he stared at her for a moment, holding half a loaf of crusty bread and a bowl of something that was steaming into the dank air of the dungeon. The smell made her mouth water immediately, and she pressed her lips together to try to hide her anticipation.

Was he going to ask something in return?

Every time she’d asked the Templars who guarded her for something she worried they would press her for a favor once they were within the cell with her.

“I – I won’t put you under a Silence if you promise to behave, lass,” he said after a moment, his gaze focused intently on her face.

“I – I promise,” she answered before she could stop herself. Her hunger and desperation was lessening her usual tenacity, her hands shaking too much to think about arguing with him.

“Aye,” he nodded, satisfied with her answer, and he pulled the keys from his pocket and opened the cell door.

He knelt beside her and set down the small plate and bowl he had brought for her so that he could undo her shackles. A frown was on his face, and he was looking her over.

“I told them they didn’t need to keep you in chains,” he sighed, irritation dripping off the tone of his voice. “Sorry, lass. I hope they haven’t chafed you too terribly.”

But when he removed them, the raw red skin of her wrists was revealed, and she heard a sharp intake of breath pass his lips.

“About damn time,” she muttered, and she gently closed her fingers around the delicate skin of her wrist. “Is everyone here that terrified of tiny women?”

To her surprise, his head leaned back and he let out several deep barks of laughter. “No, lass, not everyone.”

“Funny, it’s hard to tell,” she quipped, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“They’re more likely scared of all that lyrium you’ve got in your veins,” he told her. “I can feel it around you, wild and untamed. You – you seemed surprised to have magic.”

“That’s because I am,” she shrugged and reached for the food he had set beside her.

He watched for a few moments while she began to devour the bread, and then he frowned again. “Where are you from that you didn’t have magic?”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” she repeated her first assertion.

“A lot of strange things happening in recent days, lass,” he mused slowly. “I may be willing to believe you.”

She slowed in her chewing, staring down into her bowl as she thought.

_I shouldn’t tell anyone – right?_

_Isn’t that the first rule of time travel? I know I didn’t time travel, but…_

“No answer again, lass?”

“I – you haven’t heard of it is all,” she deflected.

“So then what harm is in a name?” he pointed out.

_Fair point, man who shouldn’t even exist._

“Earth,” she answered softly.

_And who knows if I’ll ever go back._

She couldn't quite tell why that didn't make her sadder.

“Earth?” he repeated, and he furrowed his brows as his eyes moved over her face.

“Yes,” she said, but she didn’t elaborate.

What good would it do to tell him a country, a state, a city? Even just the planet was going to be too much for him to grasp.

“And you still don’t know how you ended up in that rift with the Herald?”

“With the – Herald?” she asked, distracted.

_It’s been enough days they’re calling Evelyn the Herald?_

_How long have I been down here?_

“Aye, that other wee lass you were with,” he nodded as he watched her try to ignore his gaze as she shoveled stew into her mouth. “The one with the glowing hand, who you claimed not to have any ken of before that rift.”

“Which was the fucking truth,” she insisted, looking up to scowl at him.

He was close, closer than he’d been to her, and for a moment she got distracted. His eyes were piercing, as if they could see through her. She’d noticed they were blue from a distance, but they were intense as they moved over her face at this short range.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see soon enough,” he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “I think she was speaking with the Seeker in the Chantry -”

“She’s awake?”

“Aye, but that Breach in the sky is still there,” he told her, and then turned around with a frown. “If you don’t know her, why the concern for her safety, lass?”

“She – she saved me, I think,” Abby answered, remembering the way Evelyn had pulled her after her through the Fade. She thought too of the shock that had coursed through her to wake her up. It had to be Evelyn’s magic that she had felt, and she wondered in what terrible shape she must have been to require Evelyn to resort to her magic.

“So you really don’t remember?” he asked, and he held her gaze intently as if he could read the answer on her face.

But she kept her face neutral, not showing how she was feeling. She’d gotten good at that, at pretending as she currently was. After all, for almost a year now she had been faking it for the sake of her marriage.

“No, I don’t,” she told him, her voice even, and then she looked down and continued eating her food.

“Well, maybe it will come back to you, lass,” he said.

Now that he had stood she thought he would leave the cell, but instead he walked around it, as if he were inspecting it. The scowl on his face got deeper as he took in her conditions, and he almost seemed to be grinding his teeth.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his reaction.

Before she could even think of anything to say, her brain still trying to function again now that she had eaten, a door slammed open further down the hall. Quick footsteps hurried down the hall, followed by heavier, armored ones.

“Wait, Herald -” a deep, incredibly familiar voice called out, and Abby’s heart was suddenly racing.

“I have to see her,” Evelyn’s soft voice answered, and before Cullen could protest even further they both came into sight and halted before the cell.

“Is everything all right, Commander?” Rylen asked, folding his arms and watching the pair looking through the bars.

Neither of them answered, though, and Abby took a moment to take in their appearance, trying to soak in the fact of their existence.

Evelyn placed a hand on the bars, staring at Abby with her unusually pale eyes. She looked stunned, shocked, or like she was trying desperately to remember something important that she’d forgotten.

Beside her, Cullen nearly towered over her, standing with one hand on the pommel of his sword. He gave Abby a passing frown, but then turned his attention to the young Herald standing next to him. His eyes were fixated on her, intense amber seemingly unable to look away.

_Oh my god._

_He’s already checking her out._

_Holy shit._

“Are you – where did you come from?” Evelyn asked after a moment of simply staring at Abby.

“Far away, Evelyn,” Abby answered, and immediately chided herself for her slip.

_Fuck._

“You know my name?” Evelyn’s gracefully arching eyebrows rose high on her forehead as she took in Abby’s words. “So then we did – we did meet in the Fade?”

Abby seized on the opportunity to hide her blunder. “Yes, we did – we um, at least we must have. I remember your name.”

“I’m – I’m terribly sorry, I don’t remember yours,” Evelyn said, and she actually sounded as if she thought she had offended.

“Abby,” she answered.

“Abby?” Evelyn repeated, and then she simply stared for another moment in silence. Then with a nod she released the bar she held and turned to Cullen.

He cleared his throat and looked away as if he was trying to hide how intently he had been watching her, but she seemed not to notice.

“Commander, please – I would like for you to release this woman,” Evelyn said, her voice still soft but determined.

“She is – she is an untrained mage, Herald,” Cullen quickly objected. “We cannot risk her becoming possessed, the Veil is thin, there are actual demons about. It is not -”

“If you trust me in these conditions, you can trust her,” Evelyn insisted.

“You are a trained mage -”

“And that’s all she needs is training,” Evelyn pointed out, and she glanced back at where Abby sat. “Let her out, and I’ll do it.”


	4. High Priorities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some art of Rylen by the wonderful and amazing [@kawereen](http://kawereen.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
>  
> 
>  

The young Herald was still standing outside the bars of the cell, her arms folded as she stared determinedly at the Commander. She wouldn’t listen to his objections, instead she insisted that they release the strange woman who claimed to be from a place called Earth.

Earth.

How far away was that? Rylen had never heard of it, and his education in the Chantry had been thorough, even if he started it late.

Then again she had fallen out of a rift, and they were saying the rifts led to the Fade. If she had physically been in the Fade as the Herald had been, perhaps she wasn’t of this world. She certainly didn’t act like anyone he’d ever met.

Rylen knelt beside her and reached for her wrists, intending to inspect the damage to her skin before he released her from the cell. But as soon as he touched her she winced and pulled away, turning a sharp glare up at him.

“You’ll need some elfroot, lass,” he told her with a sigh, but he didn’t try reaching for her again.

She was still glaring at him as if she were suspicious, but there was a pink flush in her cheeks and he wondered a bit at the way she seemed to be blushing in response to his touch.

“Abby, was it?” he asked. “I’m Rylen, the Commander’s second -”

“I know,” she said and she began to push herself to her feet.

“You know?” he frowned and stood as well. He towered over her, even with the tall spiked shoes she was wearing, and he almost felt he needed to bend down so she could hear him. Yet despite her tiny size, she was standing proud and looked fierce. His first instinct was to try to protect her, but he was beginning to wonder if she would need him or anyone else to do so.

“I – I mean someone said it, I -” she stuttered out, looking away from him.

“You seem to have a knack for remembering names,” he said, and she shot him a curious look before she walked to the bars of the cell.

“So – you’re really letting me go?” she asked, looking between the Herald and the Commander.

“I would prefer that you stay in the cell, under careful watch,” the Commander replied, his voice full of irritation. He folded his arms and glanced at Rylen before he looked back at the Herald standing beside him. “Please, for the last time, Herald, hear reason -”

“I’ve heard your reasons, Commander,” the Herald replied evenly, and she gave him a fleeting look before she turned her focus to the woman before her. “There are Templars throughout Haven, if something happens they will know what to do. But I will not have you keep her locked in a cell when she could easily be released and properly trained.”

“Might I inquire why you care so much?” the Commander asked, and he raised a hand and rubbed his forehead as if thoroughly exasperated.

The Herald was quiet for a moment, simply staring at Abby before her. “I – I am not sure. I feel…responsible for her.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen heaved a sigh and shook his head, looking away as his cheeks flexed. “Fine – Captain, please release the prisoner into the Herald’s care.”

“Aye, Commander,” he replied, stepping forward and opening the cell door to let the woman by.

She stood for a moment as if hesitating, like she was wondering if it was a trap. When she finally stepped through the door, she hurried forward as if worried it would close again if she didn’t pass through it quickly enough.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Come with me,” the Herald said, and her pale eyes darted between the Commander and Rylen before she turned and hurried away. Abby didn’t hesitate, and walked quickly yet slightly unevenly after the Herald.

For a moment he simply stood beside the Commander, both of them staring after the petite, retreating figures of the two women.

“What do you reckon, should we keep an eye on them, Commander?” Rylen asked after a moment, glancing sideways at the other man.

“I – yes, we should. The untrained mage more so than the Herald,” Cullen sighed and rubbed his forehead once more. “The Herald claims not to remember anything from the Fade, but she seems keenly interested in the woman she was with.”

“Abby,” Rylen told him, nodding.

“Yes, Abby. Do you know – did they know each other before? Did she say anything?”

“She said she’s from somewhere called ‘Earth,’” he answered, turning to face the Commander and folding his arms. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Nor I,” Cullen shook his head and looked around the dungeons. “None of the Templars reported any issues with her, except for her incessant singing.”

“Aye, Lysette told me she made her way through ‘Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ at least twice,” Rylen chuckled at the thought. “Did we really have to keep her in shackles? The lass’ wrists were chafed and raw. She didn’t seem like a danger – none of them reported her trying to even use her magic or escape.”

“It – it was for the best,” Cullen insisted. He seemed slightly doubtful, though, and Rylen found himself wondering if the Herald had scolded him for their treatment of the stranger. “At least one of the Templars said she woke up screaming.”

“If she’s not from here, perhaps it was her first time in the Fade?” Rylen suggested with a shrug.

“Do you believe her – that she didn’t know she is a mage?” Cullen raised his eyebrows as he looked at him, and he seemed skeptical.

“Aye, I do,” Rylen answered after a moment. “She was stunned when I Silenced her, and the lyrium I can feel in her – it’s like the lyrium in the veins of children, before they go to the Circle.”

“Untamed,” Cullen muttered, and silence fell between them as they thought. “Still, though – trusting the Herald to teach her to control it – we need to be cautious.”

“Do you not trust the Herald? She seems a wee lass, and Seeker Pentaghast said she did what she could to help,” Rylen frowned as he watched the Commander’s face.

Something almost softened in his expression, and then he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “She did, yes. She – she even shielded me with her magic, while we were in battle.”

“Did she now?”

“Yes, she – she was our prisoner, but she helped,” Cullen continued, and for a moment he stared at nothing as if lost in thought. He shook his head and cleared his throat suddenly, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Perhaps the Maker really did send her. Whether or not he sent the other woman -”

“Abby.”

“Yes, Abby,” Cullen glanced sidelong at Rylen, a curious frown on his face. “What?”

“What what?”

“You keep saying her name,” Cullen mused slowly.

“I – it’s her name, it sounds better than ‘strange lass,’” Rylen shrugged, but he frowned and looked away from the Commander. “So – keep an eye on her? I can – I mean I’d be glad to keep watch, check on her progress, make certain there aren’t any issues.”

“Yes, I am certain you would,” Cullen said, the tone of his voice dripping with humor.

“Eh, mate I just mean – as your Second, as a Templar – surely keeping an eye on an untested mage who fell out of the Fade is a high – high priority.”

“I know what you meant,” Cullen teased, and he quirked an eyebrow at him before he turned to lead the way out of the dungeon. Rylen fell into step beside him, both men taking quick, long strides. “In the meantime, we need to patrol the area, there are still demons falling out of rifts or wandering around the hills. If you could set up a schedule, put together groups -”

“Of course, Commander,” Rylen nodded as he said it, already thinking through the easiest way to organize patrols, which areas needed to be focused on the most. “Do we have more reports from other areas of Thedas?”

“Some have come in, yes,” Cullen sighed, the exhaustion evident in his voice. It was clear he hadn’t slept in days.

“Why don’t you take a rest, take a break,” Rylen suggested. “We both haven’t slept in a few days, we’ll do the men no good to lead half-batty from lack of rest.”

The Commander stopped halfway through the Chantry and looked back toward the war room before he slowly nodded. “You’re right, Captain. Maybe I should try to get some rest.”

“Aye,” Rylen agreed. “I’ll get patrols going and then find my cot as well. We have quite a bit of work ahead of us, may as well get our heads on straight.”

Cullen continued nodding his head absently, seeming distracted, but after a moment he clapped Rylen on the shoulder and made his way out of the Chantry to find his tent. Rylen walked quickly out of the Chantry after him, and hurried through Haven to the barracks.

Once there he divided the men into patrol groups and set the schedule he had thought up on his way through the village. It was easily done, and the men quickly hopped to and followed his orders.

He was exhausted. Since the explosion of the Conclave he hadn’t been able to find more than an hour’s rest at a time, collapsing and sleeping sitting upright at the forward camp before he had to hurry into battle once more.

As much as he wanted to keep working, to ensure that the patrols began smoothly, to check on the guards posted at the gates, instead he forced himself to his tent. Stripping out of his armor he stretched and threw himself on his cot.

He needed a bath, he stunk to high heaven, but as soon as his head hit his lumpy pillow his eyes became heavy, his last thought that of chocolate brown eyes shining deep gold in torchlight.


	5. Curious

_She’s just like I imagined her._

Abby stared at Evelyn as she fussed over the preparation of a bath, directing a few servants who were setting up a large metal tub in the center of the room. It appeared Evelyn had taken up residence in the cabin she woke up in, which answered a question Abby had always wondered over.

Evelyn was thanking the servants profusely, looking like she thought she was bothering them as she hovered hesitantly to supervise.

_Shy, sweet, gentle, caring –_

_This is really her._

_Literally the opposite of me, just like I always thought._

“May we get you anything else, my Lady Herald?” one of the servants asked with a deep bow.

“N-no, no, thank you, that’s all,” Evelyn hurried to assure them, and every time they said the word ‘Herald’ she almost flinched uncomfortably. “Thank you, again, really,” she said as the servants fled from the room.

When the door closed Evelyn stood staring after them, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

“Still not used to it?” Abby asked before she could stop herself.

Evelyn turned to face her, her pale eyes wide. “I – it’s a bit odd,” she confessed. “I’m used to fear, but – for a different reason entirely.”

When she finished speaking she frowned and turned her gaze from Abby. She looked like she hadn’t meant to be so honest.

“Please, feel free to – I mean you were in that cell for days, I’m certain you would like to take a bath,” Evelyn suggested, gesturing with a hand at the tub. “D-Did they feed you? I’ll admit it was hard from what the Commander said -”

“I ate, Rylen – that is, the Knight-Captain brought me some food,” Abby assured her, nodding absently as she looked around the room.

Evelyn made no move to leave or turn her back, and Abby realized she was going to stay while she bathed.

_Thedas must not really bother with modesty._

With one last sigh she shrugged out of her leather jacket, finally setting her purse aside on the table against the wall. She knelt and undid her stilettos, sliding out of them and groaning with relief when her feet pressed flat against the floor finally.

“Those – your clothes and shoes are – interesting,” Evelyn said, sounding hesitant. “Where are you from?”

“Far away,” Abby sighed, hating having to answer the question yet again.

Something about Evelyn made her want to tell her everything. It was like she already knew her.

“Do you remember anything about the Fade?” Evelyn asked, her voice eager and full of curiosity.

“I -” Abby trailed off as she tugged her shirt over her head.

_What’s the harm in telling her?_

_But she doesn’t find out until Adamant._

_Doesn’t she need to think she’s holy right now?_

“Erm,” Abby delayed again, throwing her shirt aside and beginning to undo her belt and jeans as she thought. “I – not really. I remember your name, and you – I think you must have healed me or something, I remember it felt like a zap -”

“Like a ‘zap?’” Evelyn interrupted, a frown on her face. “That wouldn’t have been healing magic, I must have – I’m sorry, I must have accidentally hit you with my – my energy.”

“Your energy?” Abby asked, trying to sound confused, even though she could already tell she knew the answer.

“I – I’m predisposed to storms, to lightning magic,” Evelyn explained. “Some mages just – have an affinity for certain schools. We can see – maybe you will too?”

“Oh shit that’s right,” Abby muttered, and then laughed as she dragged her thin fingers across her forehead. “I’m a mage. Fuck.”

“You sound so surprised,” Evelyn mused. “Did you not have magic before, in your land?”

“No,” Abby shrugged and took a deep breath before she undid her bra and threw it aside.

She felt exposed, but also like she was changing in front of a sister.

_This is so bizarre._

_Her – actually, really her._

_I know everything about her._

“That’s unusual,” Evelyn interrupted her musings, walking to where Abby had just thrown aside her bra. “I – I’m so sorry, my curiosity tends to get the better of me.”

Evelyn flushed bright pink and pulled her hand away from where she had been reaching for Abby’s bra. She averted her gaze and looked instead at the stilettos on the ground.

“Are you a noble?” she asked, stepping forward and picking one up.

“No, definitely not,” Abby laughed. Then she reconsidered as she walked over to the tub. “I mean – I was living better than most, my husband was a -”

“You’re married?” Evelyn asked, shock evident in her voice. “Where is your husband? We should try to find a way back for you, I’m sure he’s missing you -”

“Doubt it,” Abby grumbled, reaching down with a hand to the water in the tub. “Oh, it’s cold. Do you – do you guys not, um, heat your water?”

She looked over her shoulder to see Evelyn staring at her with her mouth open, one of her stilettos in her hand. It was as if she wanted to keep asking about Abby’s husband and why she didn’t think he’d miss her, but then she shook her head and set the stiletto down.

“I usually heat it myself,” she answered and walked over to kneel beside the tub and pushed up the sleeves of her white linen blouse. She gestured for Abby to do so as well, and for a moment she simply stared at the water as if thinking. “It’s such an old habit for me I’m trying to think how to explain it so you understand. Here – place your hand on the water, and focus. Think of – think of warmth.”

“Wait – you want me to – to use magic? I can’t, no,” Abby shook her head and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“Yes, you can,” Evelyn assured her. “We need to start you somehow, and this is a simple task. It’s easy, even I can do it, and I struggle with fire – I can never get it quite hot enough, or keep it going. It just – put your hand on the water, Abby, and think of warmth and maybe a crackling fire, sometimes that helps me when I – when I can’t quite get it right.”

She was nervous, and it was the most adorable thing ever watching her babble. Everything down to her mannerisms was just as Abby pictured them, the way her pale eyes flitted between Abby and the water.

With a sigh Abby reached out with a hand and placed it on top of the water. She closed her eyes and thought of warmth – tried to actually picture it, how the sun felt on her skin, how the warmth of the fireplace she drank and wrote in front of at home felt.

Something coursed through her, she could feel it in her veins channeling out through her hand, and she opened her eyes wide in surprise. The water was heating, steam beginning to rise from it, but suddenly bubbles began to rise as well.

“Oh! Careful, you’re – you’re boiling it,” Evelyn giggled, and reached over to pull Abby’s hand away. “That – that was good, though. You were able to control it, at least, so that it only affected the water. When I was younger the first time I tried that – it came out of the wrong hand as well and singed the rug.”

Abby laughed and Evelyn shot her a bashful grin before she cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet.

“You’ll need some soap, and a cloth to dry yourself,” she murmured, and she began to walk around the cabin looking for the items she needed.

Abby felt the water, trying to determine if it was still too hot, but it felt perfectly scalding. She eagerly slipped out of her underwear and quickly into the small tub, letting out a purr as she felt the hot water slide over her skin like satin.

“Here’s some soap,” Evelyn handed her a rough bar, and for a moment her eyes wandered over Abby’s face when she looked up. “Did you sleep at all? You – you look exhausted.”

Abby swallowed hard and turned her focus to scrubbing herself with the soap. “I – not really. I tried sleeping but my dreams, um…”

She trailed off awkwardly and continued focusing on cleaning herself.

“You – had you never been in the Fade before? I mean, besides – except for when we met?” Evelyn asked.

“No,” Abby answered. “This is all new to me. My world didn’t have magic, or the Fade, or mages or Templars, or demons. We just had technology and assholes.”

“What kind of technology? Do you mean like trebuchets, or -”

Abby laughed and shook her head. “No, just – advanced - um, carts for travel, that sort of thing.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Evelyn mused, and Abby glanced at her to see her again inspecting her stilettos and clothes.

“You can try those on,” Abby told her, and her gaze snapped up and she looked almost sheepish at being caught.

“Sorry, I just -”

“No, really – go ahead,” Abby shrugged and gestured with a hand.

She slipped under the water to wet her hair, relishing the way the water felt in her greasy roots. Taking a bath had never felt so wonderful, but after days in that dingy cell this was heaven. When she sat up once more she wiped the water out of her eyes and looked over at Evelyn, immediately stifling a giggle when she caught sight of her.

“And you’ve been wearing these for days?” Evelyn asked, looking up at Abby with her eyes wide. She had put on Abby’s stilettos and was trying to take a few steps in them. “Maker, your feet must hurt. I should get you some elfroot -”

“Ryle – the Knight-Captain said I’d need some for my wrists, too,” Abby sighed, trying to ignore the way the soap and water stung the chafed skin of her wrists.

“I still can’t believe they put you in shackles,” Evelyn declared, and she slipped out of Abby’s heels before she walked over to a small chest beside the desk. “I told the Commander that was entirely unnecessary, you gave them no reason to suspect – _Templars_ , they think they always know best.”

She continued grumbling under her breath as she sorted through the contents of the chest, and Abby had to resist laughing.

But she couldn’t resist asking, seeing if her suspicions were correct. “The Commander, though, he’s – he’s a handsome man, don’t you think?”

“I – what?” Evelyn flushed crimson and straightened, staring at Abby and looking completely flustered. “I – I hadn’t really thought – I mean I suppose he is. Is that – do _you_ think -”

_Whoops._

“No, no, I didn’t mean for me,” Abby hurried to assure her. “Blonds aren’t really my type. Plus he’s too proper, that’s not – not really my thing.”

“So then why -”

“I was just making an observation,” Abby said, but she noticed that Evelyn looked more than a little thoughtful.

“F-Finish up your bath and I’ll help you with some elfroot,” Evelyn said, still looking around the room as if slightly flustered by Abby’s question. “And then we should try to let you rest, you were in that cell for days -”

“I’d rather not -”

“You’ll need to learn to sleep eventually,” Evelyn told her, but there was an understanding look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s not as terrifying as you may think. We’ll work on it.”

Abby finished her bath and rinsed herself before she reluctantly got out of the hot water. Evelyn handed her a towel, frowning as she watched Abby dry herself.

“Are those – are those tattoos?” she asked, and she stepped forward and reached out tentatively with a finger to Abby’s shoulder. “I’ve seen tattoos before, but those are – they’re so intricate. Is that a rose? And what are – what are those? Circles? Do they mean something? Is that one your language?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” Abby asked, sighing a bit. She was starting to feel like an animal in a zoo or a freak on display.

“I’m sorry, I – I’ve always been so curious, sometimes I don’t know when to stop asking questions, I didn’t mean to offend,” Evelyn hurried to apologize and she removed her finger from Abby’s skin. “I’m terribly sorry -”

“No,  you’re fine, I just – didn’t know where to start,” Abby giggled.

_It’s like I wrote this, her words, her curiosity – this is surreal._

“They’re tattoos, yes,” Abby answered. “This one is a rose,” she pointed to her shoulder, to the grayscale rose and leaves that rested there, “this one is my language, it’s a quote,” she held up her forearm and showed Evelyn, “and these are the – the phases of the moon. Or – the moon from my land.”

“You only had one?” Evelyn asked.

_One, and I’ll never see it again if I can’t make it back._

_Still – am I just in shock? Why am I not more upset about that?_

_What would I go home to?_

_Not John, I’d just be going home – alone._

_Always alone, like I always was._

“Are you all right?”

“Hm?” she looked up to see Evelyn standing in front of her, frowning with concern. “I’m fine.”

“You must be exhausted,” Evelyn gave her a tentative smile. “Here, let me – I have some elfroot salve, we’ll get you fixed up and then you can sleep in my bed.”

“No, I -”

“Yes, I insist,” Evelyn said, and her tone was suddenly firm, brooking no resistance.

_There’s that inner strength, finally coming out to assert itself._

Abby smiled and looked over Evelyn’s face for a moment. It was almost like maternal pride.

_But I didn’t create her – she’s here. This is really her._

_This is so fucking weird._

“Fine,” Abby conceded, and she let Evelyn rub elfroot salve on her chafed wrists before she was directed to sit on the edge of the bed. When Evelyn knelt to rub some into her feet she pulled them out of reach and laughed. “No, please, seriously – you don’t have to take care of me or like – massage my feet, please.”

Evelyn pursed her lips and then sighed. “I’ll leave it here for you to do if you’d like, then,” she said. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help. You – you don’t know anything about this land, and I – feel oddly responsible for you.”

_If only you knew._

“I appreciate the help,” Abby assured her. “Otherwise I think they would have just left me there in that cell forever.”

“I wouldn’t have let them,” Evelyn said. “Although, the Knight-Captain seemed nicer about it than the others, I noticed he looked concerned.”

For some reason, Abby felt her stomach lurch at the words. The tender look she’d seen in Rylen’s eyes had confused her, and apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it.

_Ugh._

“Well, should we talk about the Fade?” Evelyn sat back on her heels and stared up at Abby, an expectant and kind look on her face.


	6. Lectures

“Aye, Petyr, you do have to go out into the hills,” Rylen heaved a sigh and shook his head as he stared incredulously at the recruits standing around him. His hands were braced on either side of a crude map of the area, of the areas they knew rifts had opened.

The men needed to form groups, with what few soldiers and Templars they had, so that they could try to clear out the demons that still roamed the area. The Herald had closed the known rifts in the area before she tried to assault the Breach, but the demons that had escaped were still a threat, and it was his duty to try to take care of them.

If only these young lads and farmhands didn’t look so terrified at the prospect, or protest as much as they were.

“B-But Knight-Captain -”

“Just Captain, lad.”

“Captain, d - demons can possess you, we – we shouldn’t go out there -”

“What’s that in your hand, Petyr?” Rylen gestured, doing his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“M-my hand? It’s a – a sword, Captain,” Petyr responded, glancing between the sword and Rylen looking thoroughly confused by the question.

“Aye, good job, lad,” Rylen praised him. “And what are swords good for?”

“K-killing things?” Petyr stuttered out.

“Aye, right again,” Rylen straightened and folded his arms, looking around at the young, terrified faces around him. “So, if a demon came near to you, lad, what would you use that sword for?”

Petyr looked around for a moment as if confused by the simple questions, as if he thought they were a trap.

_Blasted cowards, the lot of them._

“I – I would use my sword to – to kill it?” Petyr asked, his voice cracking awkwardly with his uncertainty.

Rylen clapped his hands slowly as he stared at Petyr. “Aye, lad, good answer,” he told him, trying to keep his face neutral but the tone of his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I – th-thank you?” Petyr looked around at the other recruits again, his eyes wide. A few of them nodded and smiled, but a few looked apprehensive as if they were waiting for Rylen to run them through their paces.

“Andraste’s tits, lads,” Rylen barked suddenly, and they all jumped and hopped to attention. “Have you looked at the sky recently? Do you remember the way it seemed the sky was opening up to swallow us whole? You have families, friends – maybe a few of you are even lucky enough to have a sweetheart waiting for you, though I would be surprised if they were willing to wait if they saw the way you’re acting now.”

“Kn-Knight-Captain -”

“Was I finished?” Rylen glared at the recruit who had interrupted, and the poor young lad’s mouth snapped shut and he shook his head. “Your mas and das, your wee sisters and brothers, your sweethearts, if they exist – they’re all looking to you to protect them. It’s about time you all stop acting so batty with fear and do what you came here to do.”

He let his piercing gaze wander over each face that was staring at him wide-eyed, shaming the young recruits with his knowing look and blunt words.

_And I’m supposed to help defend Thedas with this lot?_

_We’re going to need a damned miracle._

“B-But Captain, the Herald tried to close the Breach, and it – it didn’t work,” Petyr blurted out, and Rylen suddenly realized part of why they were all so scared.

“Aye, it remains for now,” Rylen conceded. “But the Herald managed to close rifts, fight demons, and stop the Breach from getting any bigger. And the wee lass did it all without hesitating or asking stupid questions, Petyr.”

He held the young lad’s gaze for a few moments longer before Petyr looked down, his cheeks reddening. “Y-yes, Ser,” Petyr mumbled.

“Now, unless any more of you want to bleat about how scared you are,” he glanced around but was met by the recruits shaking their heads adamantly. “Good. Back to work, then?”

He finished dividing the men up and doling out patrol routes, organizing them to focus on the areas closest to Haven for the time being. Perhaps if they acquired more soldiers, more recruits, they could begin spreading further out into the hills. In the meantime, they had to make do with what they had. The Commander had started training the newest farmhands and locals who had made their way to join the Inquisition, but so far word was only just beginning to spread.

They were more than a little unprepared for the madness that had been unleashed on Thedas.

After he finished barking orders at the men, Rylen rolled up his map and watched as they all walked off to begin patrols. Heaving a sigh he hit the rolled parchment against his leg in irritation, turning to make his way to the training grounds to see what help he could be to the Commander.

As he walked through Haven he glanced up at the sky, his eyes drawn to the green vortex of their own accord. So much had happened, so much that didn’t make sense, but he kept trying to focus on what he could understand.

Fighting demons, commanding soldiers, training men, these were all things he understood and knew how to do, and every little bit helped. Still, staring up at the sky he felt slightly overwhelmed, thinking about the things that didn’t make sense to him.

The sky torn open, the Conclave destroyed, the Herald stumbling out of the Fade with the ability to close rifts, and the woman from Earth who had been with her. His mind wandered to that last one a bit more often than he thought was decent or understandable, inexplicably drawn to wondering about her.

Then again, the Commander had told him to keep an eye on her, so he needed to think about her. Surely it was just his desire to keep Haven safe, with an untrained mage wandering among them.

His musings were interrupted after he passed through the gates of Haven, and when he turned to the training grounds he was surprised to see the Herald sitting on the stone ledge beside the steps. Her long black hair was pulled back in a braid, her arms hugging her knees to her chest. She was staring at the training grounds, and if he weren’t mistaken it almost looked like her gaze was following the Commander as he paced through the men and shouted corrections at them.

A soft chuckle escaped Rylen’s throat, and the Herald jumped and looked up at him, her unusual eyes wide.

“Herald,” he greeted her. “Everything all right?”

“Oh – y-yes, I was just watching the training,” she demurred, looking away from him as a small flush crept onto her cheeks. “I – I’ve never had a chance to see something like this, it’s – fascinating.”

He followed her gaze to the Commander once more and he smirked. “Aye, it is.”

She shot a timid glance at him out of the corner of her eyes but she didn’t say anything else. This close he could tell just how young she was, and he realized if she had come from the Circle, there was a chance she hadn’t been away from it in years. Then again she was a noble, and had likely gone home often. Ostwick was known for its leniency with its charges, from what he had heard.

For a moment he simply stood on the stairs near her, watching the training and her fascination with it, and then suddenly he frowned sharply. “Herald,” he began slowly, “where is the lass – Abby? Wasn’t she released into your care?”

“She’s sleeping,” she answered evenly, her eyes still fixed on the training.

He felt the pace of his heart quicken slightly as he absorbed her words. “Sleeping? You left her alone? The lass – she doesn’t seem to know about the Fade, you – you told us you would -”

“Don’t worry, Knight-Captain,” the Herald answered, and she glanced up at him with a cool look in her eyes. “I spoke with her about the Fade, and how to defend herself from its more devious residents. I stayed with her for a long time after she fell asleep. She is fine.”

“Just because she fell asleep easily doesn’t mean she’ll stay that way,” he protested, irritated by how flippant she seemed to be treating the matter.

“You give mages – and perhaps women – too little credit, Knight-Captain,” she replied, and he was certainly not mistaking the icy tone of her voice now.

“That isn’t what I mean, Herald,” he ground out, angry that she could accuse him of that sort of prejudice. “The lass has just never been in the Fade before. She awoke screaming the first time she fell asleep in the cells, and -”

“Because no one had thought to speak with her about what to expect,” she interrupted, and her unusual gaze moved to his, the look in her eyes piercing as if she could see straight through him. “You all threw her in that cell as if she were no better than an animal, not thinking that maybe she was scared and in need of help.”

“I -” Rylen began, but he didn’t have the words to continue.

The wee lass was right.

“You’re right, Herald,” he conceded. “It should have been handled differently – better. But at the time, there was too much confusion, too much we were uncertain of. For all we knew, she had caused the Breach.”

“Her?” the Herald quirked one of her graceful eyebrows and held his gaze for a moment. “Please, she’s positively harmless.”

“If you had heard the tongue lashing she gave me -”

“You likely deserved it,” she quipped, returning her gaze to the training grounds. “You were all so quick to assume we were at fault, you never stopped to think that perhaps we were also victims. All you saw were two mages -”

“In the middle of some rather unusual magic, and one of you untamed -” he protested.

“It could have been an entirely different sort of accident and you still would have blamed us, simply because of our magic,” the Herald said, her tone soft but firm. It seemed to hide years of injustice and intolerance, as if this was a tired argument she’d had before. “At least I was able to finally convince you to see reason -”

“Convince us to see reason? You convinced us to release her into your custody and now you’re not even with the lass -”

“She doesn’t need a – a watcher, she’s more than capable. For not knowing she had magic, she’s doing an excellent job controlling it,” she pointed out.

“Are you simply saying that because she hasn’t burned down Haven yet, Herald?” he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow as he watched her shift slightly where she sat.

“No, I’m saying that because of the magic I have seen her perform,” she told him. “It was nearly effortless. She is a natural, she just needs some training, that’s all.”

Rylen opened his mouth to argue further, wondering at the way the Herald seemed so naïve about the other woman, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Commander suddenly approaching.

The Herald seemed to notice too because she suddenly pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirt. “You’re right, perhaps I should check on her, Knight-Captain,” she said, “until later.”

And with that she abruptly turned and hurried back through the gates of Haven. When Cullen stopped beside Rylen he hesitated for a moment and then turned to face him.

“I – did the Herald say where she was going? I – I meant to speak with her,” he muttered, and he sounded thoroughly put out.

“She’s going to check on the lass, Abby,” he informed him, trying to keep the humor out of his tone. The Commander looked disappointed, and it was taking everything in Rylen not to laugh at him. “Important matters to discuss with her, Commander?”

“I – um, not very important,” he said. He cleared his throat after a moment and glanced back at the training grounds. “Did you set out the patrols?”

“Aye, after I dealt with the bellyaching from the lads,” Rylen grumbled. “Blasted cowards, the lot of them. Why did they join the Inquisition if they weren’t willing to do battle to defend their loved ones, Thedas, or even just themselves?”

“Perhaps seeing demons falling out of the sky made them second guess their decision, considering we had recruits who joined us prior to the Breach,” Cullen muttered, but he sounded distracted as he looked over the training grounds.

“I suppose,” Rylen sighed. “Well, Commander, at least I got them to begin patrols. What can I do here for you? Or do you need me to – take care of other matters or perhaps check on – on our mage recruits?”

Cullen braced a hand on the pommel of his sword and glanced sidelong at Rylen, the scarred corner of his lip pulling up in a small smirk. “Anyone in particular you’re worried about, Captain?”

_Aye, a lass with dark brown eyes and a wicked tongue who keeps plaguing my thoughts._

But he cleared his throat and looked over the training grounds. “No, Commander. Just eager to get to work.”


	7. Cultural Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music (also what Abby is listening to):
> 
> ["Wilder Mind" by Mumford and Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1GuboqC5oZM).

_Just focus._

Evelyn always repeated those words to her like it was the easiest thing in the world. But Abby’s mind was constantly racing, still trying to wrap itself around her new reality. She still had no idea how she had gotten here, and every time she woke up she kept expecting to be back in her four poster bed.

Back on Earth.

Not on a small cot in the corner of the cabin of the Herald of Andraste, in Haven, in Thedas.

Evelyn insisted on keeping her close, not allowing her to sleep on her own. As much as Abby wanted to protest and strike out on her own, she also realized she had nowhere to go. Untamed magic in her veins, no money, no way to _make_ money, no belongings beyond what was in her purse when she fell into the Fade – things were more than a little lacking at the moment.

Abby groaned and shook herself out, rolling her shoulders as she tried to clear her mind. Back on Earth she had tried meditating before, and had sucked at it.

Royally.

It was her first time practicing without Evelyn’s guidance, but she had left early that morning to head to the Hinterlands to meet Mother Giselle. Her departure had felt a bit like being left to housesit or babysit, being told who to call if things went wrong. Evelyn had wrung her hands and bitten her bottom lip, looking hesitant to leave, even after Abby had rolled her eyes and assured her she’d be fine.

Abby had watched from the door as Evelyn tried to hurry down to the gates to meet the others, but then Cullen had called from behind her, had met her on the path when she stopped to wait for him. It had been a surprise to see him speak with her for a moment before passing something to her. Something that looked suspiciously like the dagger he usually wore tied to his belt. And she had taken it, looking surprised before she had turned and rushed away, trying to tie the leather scabbard to her belt.

Cullen had stared after her before he rubbed his neck and looked away, and when he caught sight of Abby watching him, smirking, he scowled and marched away.

_Damn it, Abby, now you’re not focused again._

Abby sighed and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tried to think through things Evelyn had told her.

Focus on a sound, focus on the air.

The air was frigid, heavy with the threat of snow. The tip of her nose was cold, her fingertips too, and she tried to draw on the feeling. Before she had managed to make it snow when she was with Evelyn, had managed to create some ice and throw it at the boulder they had faced. Evelyn came down here, below the training grounds, to practice her own magic, and she brought Abby with her to teach her to control her magic. It was a good spot for it.

Shouts sounded above her near the gates, and her eyes flew open as she groaned. She had been close to focused, then, and she glared up at the patrolling soldiers who were laughing together as they passed.

It was too quiet here usually, and she found her mind wandering in the stillness. On Earth there was always noise, traffic, electric humming, fans, something. Here, things were still, so still that she felt herself almost going mad from how positively calm everything was all the time.

 _Music_.

When she needed to focus, when she had been in the zone with her writing, she had been listening to music. It soothed her, blocked out the disquieted and racing nature of her mind.

But she doubted Maryden’s lute was going to have the same effect for her, and besides she couldn't go practice her magic in the tavern with the soldiers of the Inquisition.

It was after dusk, the recruits no longer training in the grounds on the hill above her. The only thing nearby was nugs, she could hear them scampering through the snow and the trees.

No one would notice if she played some music, especially if she kept it down. She was definitely regretting that her headphones hadn’t made the journey with her.

Pulling her phone out of her small purse she turned it on, watching as the bright glare of the loading screen swirled on the screen. She still had some battery, it hadn’t all been used up making calls to a lawyer or her friends, and she’d been smart enough to turn it off when she had a moment in the cells.

_Sixty-four percent, and no service._

_Duh, and duh._

Abby opened her music library, thankful that she had made a habit of downloading some to her phone so she could listen to them. She ignored her picture gallery, not wanting to even begin to think about it, about the home or people she would never see again.

_Breathe and focus, Abby._

_Music, so you can focus on your magic._

_Magic._

_Fucking Christ._

Abby shook her head and scrolled through the music she had, trying to find something to help her focus. After a few moments she settled on one, and then locked her phone and put it in the back pocket of her jeans.

_“It’s in my blood, it’s in my water, you try to tame me, tame me from the start.”_

Shaking out her hands she took another deep breath and rocked slightly to the beat, singing along softly.

_“In the place that’s safe from harm, I had been blessed with a wilder mind.”_

The feeling of cold air, the feeling of ice and snow beneath her fingertips. She tried to picture them, closing her eyes, trying to conjure it just like she had before. Evelyn had noticed ice came easiest to her, and she had encouraged her to start with that to help her learn to control it all. Other schools could come later, she had assured her. Just learning control was enough for the moment.

_“You can be every little thing you want nobody to know, and you can try to drown out the street below, and you can call it love, if you want.”_

Her mind had finally quieted, no longer wandering to her surroundings, her situation, her pain. She was able to feel the lyrium in her veins, the weird way she could feel it moving within her, new and slightly terrifying.

_Breathe – and focus._

When she opened her eyes she thought at first that it was finally snowing, but then she realized instead that it was her.

She was making it snow all around her, large flurries of snowflakes falling and clinging to her hair and her eyelashes. With a smile she focused once more, trying to direct the snow, to channel it and control how it was moving.

_Almost there – almost –_

“Eh, lass, it’s getting dark, why are you still out here?”

“God damn it,” she muttered, her heart racing even though she felt irritated as she watched the snow she had been forming into a swirl collapse around her. The deep, accented voice had undone all of the calm focus she had managed to conjure.

“Are you – are you practicing? What’s that noise? It sounds – where is it coming from?”

She heard the crunch of his footsteps stop beside her and she heaved a sigh, resigning herself to speaking with him. So far she had avoided it as best as she could, still confused by the way he looked at her, the eager way he always seemed to want to speak with her.

Abby didn’t trust it.

Trying to delay speaking so that she could steady her nerves, she reached for her phone to turn the music off.

“What’s that, lass?” he asked, and before she could stop him he reached out quickly and grabbed the phone out of her hands.

“Hey – wait – don’t -”

“Don’t what, lass? What is this, anyway? And why is it making such a racket?” he asked, turning her phone over in his hand. He was frowning, sliding his fingers over the screen and case, trying to determine what it was. When he raised his gaze to hers he quirked an eyebrow. “Is that – is that music, where you’re from? Is that your language?”

“I – yes, and yes,” she sighed, realizing it did her no good to try to hide the truth. What harm was there in telling him it was a song, that that was English?

“How – how is it coming out of this? Is it some kind of magic? You told me you didn’t have magic where you came from,” he glanced at her, his aqua eyes moving over her face as he searched for the truth.

“It’s not magic, it’s technology,” she reached for her phone, but suddenly he twisted and held it higher, out of her reach. “Can I – can I have it back?”

“Not until I have some answers, lass,” he told her with a chuckle, still holding the phone out of her straining reach.

“I’ve answered everything you just asked me, you ass -” she gritted out, trying to reach for her phone, grabbing his arm in the process.

“But now that I have something you want back, I can ask more questions,” he mused, still chuckling as he continued to hold the phone out of her reach. “Where should I start, lass?”

“Start by giving that back to me, you asshole,” she demanded, straining on tiptoes to try to reclaim her phone.

It was no use though. Rylen had to be at least a foot taller than her, possibly more. No matter how she clung to the arm he had raised above his head, she couldn’t get it lowered at all so that she could reach the phone he was holding hostage.

“Come now, lass, I haven’t been that horrible to you, have I?” he asked with a frown, and he almost sounded hurt. “I just want to ask you a few questions. After all you’re still quite the mystery.”

“I’m not sure how many of them I can answer, I still don’t know how I got here,” she grumbled, finally relenting in her attempts to reach her phone.

“You don’t remember anything else from the Fade?”

“I -” she hesitated a moment too long and a knowing look came into his eyes.

“So you do remember,” he accused.

“I – no, I just thought maybe I’ve had bits and pieces come back to me but no, I don’t,” she quickly lied, keeping her face still and determined.

She could do this, she was good at this. She could lie, just as she had for over a year.

_Fuck I need a drink._

“You seem close to the Herald -”

“Because you all threw me in that cell and she’s the only one who thought to pull me out -”

“I tried to tell the Commander to release you -”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit, is it?” he quirked a dark eyebrow at her again, his aqua gaze holding hers, and she found herself unable to look away.

“You heard me,” she said, raising her chin slightly to try to appear more confident than she actually felt.

Something about his gaze, the way he looked at her, undid her until she felt ready to confess everything, or do – _something_.

She wasn’t even sure what that something was, she just knew she needed to be careful.

“Well, lass, I understand if you don’t want to believe me or trust me,” he conceded after a few moments. “After all, you’re stuck in a strange land, everyone treating you suspiciously. I understand, really.”

Abby’s mouth opened, she wanted to retort, to call him a moron, but she was thrown by his serious tone, by how reassuringly he was looking at her. It was sweet, and comforting.

_Definitely need to be careful._

“Just a few more questions,” he told her, a smirk tugging the tattoo on his chin up with the action. “What is this, anyway?”

He was gesturing with her phone, watching her intently as her gaze fixated on the way he was so casually flailing it around in his hand. She sighed and put her hands on her hips. “It’s – it’s called a phone, and please be careful with it,” she told him. “It’s used for communicating, and it can store pictures and music and do a ton of other stuff too. It was like a mini computer, back home.”

“A mini – lass, speak Common, please,” he implored her, frowning between she and the phone in his hand. “I hardly understood any of that.”

“I’m not certain I can explain further,” she shrugged uselessly. “There’s so much I’d have to go back and explain, but you probably still wouldn’t understand -”

“I’m not a simple man, lass, you could try -”

“No, I – I didn’t mean like that,” she cringed, hating that he thought she was implying he was stupid. “I just – we have so much more technology than you do here, I’d have to explain photography and recording and even typewriters probably, fuck you wouldn’t know what a satellite was -”

She trailed off when she saw the baffled look on his face, and despite herself giggles escaped from her mouth, and she quickly pressed her fingertips to her lips. Curiously, his eyes followed the action, and suddenly he cleared his throat and held the phone out to her.

Tentatively she reached her left hand out to take it back from him, and when he glanced down she noticed a sharp frown pass across his face. His hand pulled back, removing the phone from her reach again as he stared at her extended fingers.

“What the f -” she began, straining for her phone, which he again held up above his head.

“That ring, lass,” he pointed with his other hand at her left ring finger. “Are you – are you married?”

There was something indistinguishable about the look on his face, and she couldn’t make it out. She felt self-conscious suddenly, hyperaware of his gaze moving between her finger and her eyes.

“I – it’s complicated,” she sighed, closing her fist and lowering it, trying to remove the ring from his sight. “I don’t even know why I’m still wearing the damn thing, to be honest.”

“But you – you’re married?” he asked again.

“Sort of?” she shrugged, folding her arms before herself, still trying to hide the massive diamond on her finger.

“How can you be ‘sort of’ married? Either you’re married or you aren’t, lass.”

“I – I was in the process of not being married anymore, when I ended up here,” she answered, her voice low.

Why didn’t she want to just tell him?

“Not being married anymore? Was he dying? I -” he was frowning, looking thoroughly lost.

“Does Thedas not have divorce?”

“Di – what now?”

“Divorce,” she repeated, her brows furrowing as she watched him. “I wasn’t going to be married anymore, we were – dissolving the union.”

“No, we don’t have that here,” he said slowly. “What meaning does marriage have if you can dissolve it?”

Her eyes narrowed instinctively, her insides feeling hot and heavy as lead as she glared at him. “Can I have my fucking phone back, now?”

His eyebrows raised when he noticed the change in her demeanor, and he lowered his arm and finally passed her the phone.

“If you’re a married woman, what should I be calling you then?” he asked.

“I’m – I’m not a – for fuck’s sake, just call me Abby,” she groaned, and she turned her phone off and shoved it unceremoniously into her purse.

“What kind of a name is Abby?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. He was teasing her, she could tell, but he seemed slightly hesitant about it, like he was trying to break up the tension.

“What kind of a name is Rylen?” she countered, folding her arms and glaring at him.

“Do you always dodge questions like this?” he teased, folding his arms as well as he peered down at her, a gleam in his aqua eyes.

“When faced with too many personal questions, yes,” she quipped.

“I was just asking about your name, lass,” he shrugged.

“It’s short for Abigail,” she sighed. No one had called her that in years, though. Not since her mother had been alive.

“Abigail?” his eyebrows rose, and he looked slightly taken aback for a moment as his eyes wandered over her face.

“What of it, _Rylen_?” she challenged, her heart racing slightly as she tried to figure out why he was looking at her like that.

“That’s – that’s a beautiful name, that’s all, _Abigail_ ,” he teased.

The way he said her name almost like a purr, the smirk, and the gleam in his eyes as he looked at her made her feel as if her heart leapt into her throat.

And before she could stop herself, she turned her back on him without another word and hurried up the path to Haven, suddenly eager to put as much distance between them as she could.


	8. Smitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hand slipped. Or rather, Rylen had a lot on his mind. Updated tags, a longer chapter than previous ones, and also just the realization that that may be more standard from now on. Who knows.  
> Hope you enjoy, hehe.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

The lass was avoiding him, he could tell.

Ever since that night that he had questioned her, that he had teased her and tried to learn more about her, she had been turning tail and fleeing every time she saw him. It was more than a little distracting.

He couldn’t get his mind off of her, and he was past wondering if it was because the Commander and he had agreed to keep an eye on her. It was clear the lass wasn’t a danger, and that she was actually controlling her magic quite well so far.

No, he knew now why his mind wandered to her frequently during the day, and why his dreams were full of imaginings of his hands moving over creamy skin as chocolate eyes shimmered up at him.

He hardly knew the lass, but he almost felt bewitched by her. He knew that he hadn’t been, knew that that was madness to think. But he couldn’t stop his mind from trying to picture what tender look she might give him if she were laying beneath him.

It didn’t help that she was so spirited, that she was such a challenge. He enjoyed solving problems, and the mystery of her, the walls that she had obviously built around her to keep people out, intrigued him more than he knew they should.

He had always dreamed of a lass who was more than a little feisty, who could take his teasing and give as good as she got, who was able to take care of herself while still remaining tender. Every time he looked at her, and thought of her, all he could think was that she was just the kind of lass he had always imagined.

Maker help him, she had fallen out of a rift with magic she didn’t know she possessed and a wicked tongue, and all he could think was that he wanted her in his arms.

He was doomed.

He was able to focus and concentrate well enough when she wasn’t in sight, caught up in his duties leading the men, organizing patrols, and assisting with training. A few times he was sent to the areas around Haven and the Temple of Sacred Ashes to take care of larger groups of demons or bandits. The reprieve these outings provided from looking for her every chance he got as he walked through Haven was as welcome as it was irritating.

As distracting as she was, he actually didn’t want to get the lass off his mind. Something about her, the fact that she seemed so much like the perfect woman he’d always imagined, made him actually want to work harder in his role with the Inquisition. If such a lass as she was in Thedas, he would do everything he could to set it right. She deserved to be safe, protected. He would make certain that she was.

“Everything all right, Rylen?”

He glanced back from where he was peering down the hill, watching as Abigail practiced her magic below the training grounds. Cullen was standing beside him, his arms folded as he raised a curious eyebrow at his Second.

“Aye, Commander,” Rylen answered after a moment and cleared his throat. “I was just keeping an eye on the lass, as you instructed.”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Cullen said, glancing over his shoulder to look at where she was. After a moment his calm reserve broke and he let out a few soft chuckles.

“Something funny, Commander?” Rylen grumbled, dragging a hand down his chin, and musing that he needed a shave.

“Oh, just your insistence that you’re keeping her under watch,” Cullen mused slowly. His tone was still heavy with humorous suggestion. “Have you at least found anything else out about her for as closely as you watch her? Any idea where she came from, what she was doing with the Herald?”

“She’s married,” Rylen murmured, the words slipping out before he meant for them to. But he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, the revelation that had come the moment he saw the large ring on her finger. She was married, and by the looks of it, possibly to a wealthy nobleman.

“She is? Is her – is her husband looking for her? Surely she wants to find her way back to him, but she’s made no moves to leave, and the Herald was requesting that we find a way to employ her,” Cullen glanced behind them once more. He sounded confused, thoughtful as he watched her practice for a moment.

“The lass said she was getting something called a – a remorse?” Rylen frowned, unsure if that was the correct phrase, but he couldn’t remember what she had said. He had been too wrapped up in the realization that the lass he couldn’t stop thinking about was married.

“A remorse?” Cullen gave him a bemused frown.

“Aye, she said where she comes from a lass can dissolve her union, and not be married anymore,” he explained. “Apparently she was in the process of one of those.”

“Fitting name,” Cullen mused.

“Aye, it is,” Rylen chuckled. “She seemed mighty testy about it when I mentioned it, too. Kept trying to hide her ring, like she hadn’t wanted me to know.”

“Hmm, I wonder why that could be,” Cullen said, his tone full of humorous suggestion once more.

“She’s keeping secrets, that must be it,” Rylen cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back as he tried to ignore the Commander’s laughter.

“She’s keeping secrets from _you_ , it seems,” Cullen pointed out. “Perhaps she’s told the Herald more. I’m not surprised she doesn’t want you to know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rylen glanced sideways at the other man, his brows furrowed.

But Cullen was staring at the path that led to Haven’s gates, and when Rylen followed his gaze he saw what had caught his attention.

Abigail was making her way up the path to the gates, walking quickly as if trying to flee something. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring at her, and gave up any pretense of walking – she positively bolted up the rest of the path through the gates.

“She was watching you,” Cullen told him, and he clapped a hand on Rylen’s shoulder. “Just make certain she isn’t a danger, Captain. Anything else – well, that’s up to you.”

“Aye, Commander,” he nodded and then glanced back at where she had disappeared through the gates.

_Watching me, eh?_

“When was the last time you took a break, Captain?”

“When was the last time you took one, Commander?” he turned back and raised a mocking eyebrow at the other man.

“Fair point,” Cullen sighed. “Take the night off, Rylen. You’ve been working hard. I’d hate for you to go batty, as you always say.”

Rylen chuckled and shook his head. Leave it to the Fereldan to mock his words. “Same could be said for you, Cullen. Spending all your time working or pining after that little slip of a thing – when does she get back, anyway?”

“Soon,” Cullen grumbled, and glared at Rylen. “And as for pining after the Herald -”

“You knew right away who I meant, so I must be on to something,” Rylen pointed out, and he gave a few barks of laughter at the look on his Commander’s face. “Take it easy, mate. I'd hate for you to go _batty_ before she comes back.” 

 

* * *

 

Rylen couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night off. He went to the bathhouses, and shaved, and took a short nap.

But after that, he had no idea what to do with himself.

He was used to work, to solving problems and fixing things. Not having anything to do was unusual to him. Or at least, it was in this situation, with Thedas still falling apart, with the sky still swirling green. Normally he could be the laziest person in existence, as soon as everything was taken care of and there was no longer any work to do.

Now though, he didn’t feel like a break was going to help anything, but the Commander had told him to take one.

Maybe a pint at the tavern would help, maybe it would calm his wandering mind and his restlessness.

_She was watching you._

He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind. The Commander wasn’t one to lie, and if he said she had been standing there watching him, then she had been.

Was it possible the lass thought about him too?

When he thought about that, he felt his heart race slightly. What if she did? What if the lass thought about him, what if she was just as intrigued as he was?

He shook himself, trying to banish the thought and get back to relaxing. A pint, relaxing at the tavern – it could double as a chance to see how the men were spending their time off duty.

Dressed in a simple linen shirt and leather breeches, he tied his small dagger to his belt in case he needed it and then sauntered through Haven toward the tavern.

_Anything else – well, that’s up to you._

Cullen’s words came back to him, and he absently ran his hand through his hair as he made his way along the muddy path through the village.

He was a man of action, it was about time he acted like it, about time he started working for what he wanted. He knew already that he at least wanted to know her better, that he wanted to try to figure her out. But if he was really being honest, his mind strayed to her pink lips and creamy skin far more frequently than was likely decent.

Or at least, it wouldn’t be decent until he knew her better, and so he endeavored to get to work – she couldn’t avoid him forever, could she?

When he reached the small tavern in the middle of Haven, he was surprised at how rowdy it sounded inside, at how crowded it seemed to be. Was this why the men were always so blasted lazy during the day?

He took a deep breath before he pushed his way into the tavern, trying not to let himself focus on his duties, on the men. A break, that was what he was doing. He wasn’t there to scold the men, wasn’t there to set them straight.

But all thoughts of scolding recruits fled when he saw who was sitting at the bar, her thin fingers wrapped around a small cup in front of her.

Here it was, a chance to do just what he had been thinking of, a chance to get to know her better. He took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his breeches as he pushed through the crowd of recruits toward the bar. Abigail hadn’t looked up yet, she was staring into the cup in front of her, and he hoped that she didn’t try to run away when she saw him.

Just a chance to speak with her, that was all.

The stool beside her was empty, and he quickly slid onto it before she looked up. He glanced down at the cup she was holding, noticing that it was empty, but then he noticed something else.

Her left hand was missing its ring.

“What happened to your ring, lass?” he asked, frowning.

She jumped slightly when he spoke, her chocolate brown eyes wide, but her surprise was quickly hidden by a scowl. “Jesus Christ, can’t I go anywhere without you showing up?”

“It’s not like you own the tavern, Abigail,” he teased, chuckling when he saw the way her nose scrunched up like she was irritated with him. “And I was just asking a simple question.”

She pursed her lips and glanced down at her left hand, taking a moment to stare at the indentation on her ring finger. It had an obvious tan line, a small depression where the ring must have rested for years, as if she hadn’t taken it off in a very long time. He frowned a little at the thought, wondering just how long she’d been married. She didn’t look as old as he was, and he found himself wondering when she’d gotten married.

Was it rude to ask her age? To ask how long this marriage she was dissolving had lasted?

“I took it off and hid it,” she finally answered, swirling her cup as if looking for any last drop of booze.

Rylen gestured to get Flissa’s attention, and then glanced back at Abigail. “Probably a smart move, lass,” he told her. “We do what we can, but I’d hate for someone to see that shiny trinket and think they can take it from you.”

She laughed, the sound almost hollow, and then shook her head. “They’re welcome to it, I don’t want anything to do with it,” she sighed. “I just thought, maybe, if I could sell it I’d have some money. But mostly I just couldn’t stand to look at the damn thing anymore.”

Flissa stopped in front of him before he could respond, and at the barkeep’s unspoken question he hummed slightly and looked over the bottles behind the bar. “West Hill Brandy for me and the lass, Fliss, thank you.”

Flissa nodded and turned to fetch the bottle, and when he looked at Abigail to ask the question he longed to, he saw her glaring at him.

“Trying to get me drunk?” she accused. “I can pay for my own booze, I don’t need you to buy me -”

“Have a drink with me, Abigail -”

“Abby.”

“No, lass, you said your name was Abigail,” he smirked at the glare she gave him. “And I think it suits you better.”

“You don’t get to decide my name, asshole -”

“That’s not my name, lass, we’ve been over this – it’s Rylen,” he quipped.

“And it’s _Abby_ ,” she snapped at him.

“If I call you Abby for now, will you have a drink with me?” he asked, passing over the coin for the brandy when Flissa set it in front of them.

He watched intently as Abigail’s eyes flicked between his gaze and the cups of brandy in front of them, and she ran her tongue over her lip as if in anticipation.

“Fine,” she agreed, reaching for one of the cups.

“Aye, cheers, Abby,” he said, smiling as he held out his cup and waited for her to join him in the toast.

She pursed her lips and for a moment he wondered if she was going to ignore him, but instead she tapped her cup against his before she lifted it and drained it in one gulp. Giggles escaped her lips as soon as she was done, and she made a face, looking between the cup and him.

“Do you drink this girly shit? It’s so fruity,” she wiped her mouth, still making a face as she set down the empty cup. “Did you think I can’t handle anything stronger? Or can _you_ not handle it?”

Her eyebrow was raised challengingly, a smirk tugging up one corner of her tempting mouth.

He felt himself flush, embarrassed by the mocking tone of her voice. He’d meant it as a gracious gesture, buying a nice drink for her, something pricier and smooth, even though he personally would have preferred whiskey.

Perhaps she would too, and somehow the thought that she also liked whiskey excited him. He’d never known a lass who could match his tastes like that, and he cleared his throat and caught Flissa’s attention once more.

“Two Mackay’s, Fliss, thank you,” he said, and he drained his brandy in one gulp before pushing the cup aside.

_Aye, she was right – far too fruity._

“Ooo, Mackay’s? Now you’re talking,” Abby giggled, and to his surprise she leaned a little closer as she rested her elbows on the bar. “So, do you have the night off? I’m surprised to see you in here. Or have you been sent in to set the rabble straight?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “The Commander thought I deserved a break,” he told her. “Glad I took one, I can’t imagine a better way to spend an evening than sharing a drink with a beautiful lass.”

He glanced sidelong at her, and felt hope spring in his chest when he saw the way her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip. She looked flustered, and suddenly sat up straighter, away from him.

“Listen, I don’t know what you -” she began, but when he started laughing she stopped and scowled at him.

“Just a fact, lass,” he told her. “Nothing to get up in arms about.”

Abigail pouted slightly and looked around, as if she was trying to collect herself in response to his teasing. After a moment she reached up to the lapels of her black leather coat and began to shrug out of it, folding it and placing it in her lap. She was wearing a thin top under it, black and low cut, with sleeves that didn’t cover more than her shoulders.

Unfortunately, she caught him staring at her, but before she could say anything Flissa finally placed their drinks in front of them. Rylen passed over coin before he slid one of the cups to Abigail, secretly hoping she’d be distracted and wouldn’t mention that he had just been staring at the creamy skin her shirt was showing off.

“So was it just a fact, or are you trying to hit on me?” she asked.

“Hit on you?” he repeated, frowning as he looked over at her.

“Chat me up, flirt, seduce,” she explained, taking a sip of Mackay’s, peering at him over the cup as she did.

_Blast it. Too obvious, mate._

“Again, Abig – Abby, just talking,” he assured her, holding his hands up in front of himself. “Promise.”

She smirked at him, but before she could respond with another quip someone stumbled up and put their arm around her.

“Haven’t seen you here before -” the man hiccupped, “beautiful.”

Rylen’s insides twisted, anger flooding him at the sight of the young man leaning on her, and he glared at the hand that was touching the bare skin of her arm. The skin that he wanted to touch, that he had been dreaming of running his hands over for weeks.

“Lad, if you don’t -” he began, and he started to push himself off the stool to stand.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

Abigail’s arm pulled up and down in a flash, jamming her elbow right into the young man’s stomach as hard as she could. He doubled up with a pained grunt, his ale sloshing out of the tankard he held and spilling all over the front of her. She gasped and hopped up, out of the lad’s grasp, and stared down at her soaked clothes.

“You dick,” she scolded the young man, who was still spluttering and clutching his now empty tankard.

“You – you hit me – I feel sick,” the lad stuttered out, rubbing the spot where her elbow had made contact.

“Maybe if you didn’t just waltz up and grab unsuspecting women without permission you wouldn’t get hit, jackass,” she told him, her voice rising slightly.

Rylen stood staring for a moment, noticing that the recruits nearest to them had stopped talking and were watching the scene as well. And then, once the mild shock at how quickly she had reacted wore off, he began to laugh.

Abigail looked up at him, a glare on her face at first, but after a moment of watching him laugh a smile broke across her face and she joined him with a few giggles of her own.

“Aye, lad, she’s right,” he finally calmed enough to say. “That one was on you, but hopefully you learned your lesson. Now get out of here.”

The lad looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time, and his eyes widened. “Y-yes -”

“Wait, wait, where are my manners?” Rylen said, stepping forward and taking the empty tankard from the recruit. “What’s your name, lad?”

“B-Bobert, Ser,” the lad answered, trying to straighten finally, though his eyes were still watering with pain.

“Ah, Bobert, nice to meet you,” Rylen greeted, and Bobert frowned in response to the light, teasing tone of the words. “Been here long, lad?”

“N-no, I just got here a few days ago,” Bobert answered.

“I see,” Rylen nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, I’m Captain Rylen, and I’ll be in charge of your training, beginning in the morning. Quite the impression you’ve made, here.”

The lad gulped and shuffled his feet, his eyes widening until they looked like saucers. He suddenly seemed unable to speak.

“In fact, I think perhaps some extra training is in order, wouldn’t you agree?” Rylen asked, clapping the lad on the shoulder. “How does ten laps around the lake, in full armor, sound?”

Bobert’s mouth opened, as if he was going to agree, or perhaps dare to disagree, and Rylen squeezed his shoulder tighter and laughed.

“Aye, that sounds good to me,” Rylen told him, not waiting for him to try to stutter out a response. “See you at dawn, young Bobert. Dismissed.”

The last word he barked, and the poor lad jumped and gave a sloppy salute before he hurried out of the tavern, looking as if he were being chased by something truly terrifying.

Rylen watched him flee before he turned back to Abigail, and saw that she was staring at him with her arms folded, her brows furrowed.

“I can handle myself,” she said. “I didn’t need you to cut in and act like -”

“I didn’t do it for you,” he interrupted. “It’s unbecoming of our recruits to act that way, treating lasses like they’re cuts of meat to be drooled over -”

“Oh so you did it for decency’s sake, and not to show off?” she quipped.

“Aye,” he frowned at her, curious at how upset she looked.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she told him, and she picked her leather jacket off the ground and began to jerk it on. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“Let me walk you to your cabin, Abigail,” he said, but she shook her head and stepped back from him.

“No thanks,” she gritted out. “I’m fine on my own.”

“Just let me make sure you get back safe -”

“I’m not some damsel in distress,” she snapped. “You don’t need to -”

“No, but I want to,” he told her, and he watched as she flushed under his careful gaze.

“Fine,” she gritted out, and she downed the rest of her whiskey before she pushed past him to lead the way out of the tavern.

She was walking quickly, but his legs were longer than hers and he easily fell into step beside her.

“Do you think because you’re trying to act like a gentleman that you’re any better than _Bobert_ back there?” she accused, shooting him a glare.

“Actually I do, lass,” he chuckled. “Any time you wanted me to leave you alone, I would.”

“Funny, because I’m fairly certain I just told you not to walk me back and you didn’t listen to me,” she pointed out.

“You didn’t really mean it,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, strolling casually beside her, a smirk coming to his face despite himself.

“You really are an ass,” she stopped walking and stared up at him, her brows furrowed sharply.

“I’m an ass for wanting to keep you safe? Thedas is a dangerous place, Abigail,” he stopped walking as well, facing her.

He positively towered over her, even though she was standing as straight as she could, her arms folded in front of herself. She had finally replaced the ridiculous shoes she had arrived in, and he wondered if the Herald had bought her the pair of leather boots she was wearing.

_Without those spiky shoes of hers, the wee lass is hardly bigger than an elf._

“I said I can handle myself,” she told him.

“Aye, you can handle one young lad,” he countered.

“I’ve been handling men like him – and you – my whole life,” she said. “I don’t need a – a protector, a white knight -”

“I’m not saying you do, lass -”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, I just – I wanted to – blast it, Abigail, I’m just trying to help -”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Aye, you didn’t, but maybe you should -”

“I don’t want it!”

For a moment they glared at one another. This wasn’t at all how he wanted things to go, wasn’t at all how he had hoped talking with her would end up.

“I – I’m sorry,” he said after a pause. He could salvage this, he had to try. “You’re new to Thedas, and I don’t know anything about Earth, but – I just want to be sure someone is looking out for you.”

Something changed in her expression, she almost looked ashamed for a moment, a tenderness showing for the briefest moment in her dark eyes.

“I – no, I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m – I’m a mess. I’m almost out of money, I still don’t know how I got here, I have fucking _magic_ , I – I shouldn’t be so ungrateful. I just – I know that I’m in danger, I’m not a moron -”

“No, that’s what I am, right?” he teased, remembering the word from the first time they’d met.

She glanced up at him almost sheepishly, but when she saw the smile on his face a small grin tugged at her lips. “I – yes, you are,” she agreed, and she looked away from him and shook her head. “So, is Thedas being dangerous the reason you’ve got that with you?”

As she said it she reached out a hand and flicked the dagger tied to his hip, and his breath caught at the gesture. He tried not to think about how close her hand was to the area he wanted her to touch the most.

“Aye, just in case,” he managed to answer after a moment.

“Maybe once I figure out how to get some money I’ll get one too, then you won’t have to worry about me so much,” she muttered, pulling her hand away from his dagger as she cleared her throat.

Without hesitation he reached to untie the dagger from his belt and held it out to her.

“Wait, what?” she looked between he and the dagger, and then began to shake her head. “No, don’t, please -”

“Take it, lass. You’re right, I’d feel better if you had it,” he held it out more insistently, but she held up a hand and continued to shake her head.

“Is this a weird courting ritual with you guys? ‘Here take my dagger?’ For fuck’s sake -”

“What are you talking about?” he frowned, momentarily worrying that someone else had made the same offer to her.

“Cullen – he gave the Herald his dagger before she left,” she told him. “Is this like – some weird thing you all do in Thedas?”

Rylen chuckled, remembering how he had wondered where the Commander’s dagger had suddenly gone. Of course he gave it to the lass, he had worried incessantly about her leaving for the Hinterlands.

“No, it’s not a custom here, but I’d still like for you to take mine,” he said after a moment, holding the dagger back out to her. “Please, lass. If you’re so intent on doing things yourself…”

She sighed and rolled her eyes before she took the dagger from him at last, her fingers brushing his as they closed around the scabbard. Her fingers were icy cold, her skin soft.

And like an overeager, untested young lad he felt himself begin to harden in his breeches.

 _Had_ the lass bewitched him?

He cleared his throat and stepped back, trying not to think about how he wanted to feel her skin again, to see if the rest of her was as soft and cool as her fingers.

“Thanks, Rylen,” she said, giving him a furtive glance and a fleeting smile.

He nodded, momentarily unable to speak, and he gestured for her to lead the way once more. As they walked side by side she tied the dagger on to her belt, struggling slightly with it.

“So, are you still spying on me to make sure I’m not somehow the source of the Breach?” she asked suddenly.

He smirked, unable to resist flustering her with an honest answer. “No, lass, I don’t think you’re a danger. You’re more a – fascination, to me, and I’d like to know more,” he glanced at her and noticed her blush even in the light from the twin moons.

“There’s nothing to know,” she answered after a moment, her voice wavering slightly. “I’m boring.”

“I disagree,” he told her.

He wanted to say more, wanted to ask her questions, tell her jokes, try to make her laugh and smile as she had a few times that evening. But they’d reached the cabin she shared with the Herald, and her hand was on the doorknob.

“Um, well – thanks for the drinks, and walking me back, and the dagger, I -” she broke off and frowned. “God when I list it like that I feel like I owe you. Um, I’ll pay you back once I have -”

“You don’t need to pay me back,” he shook his head adamantly, his tone firm. “Just look after yourself, and maybe – well, I’ll see you around.”

“You mean you’ll keep spying on me,” she quipped, but to his surprise she winked before she opened the door and walked into the dark cabin. “Good night,” she called over her shoulder, and then the door closed firmly in his face.

He stood for a moment, seriously considering knocking on the door, to take her into his arms and kiss her if she opened it. But he heard the bolt turn in the door, and the finality of the sound made him heave a sigh and turn away, running a hand through his chestnut waves as he tried to collect his thoughts.

The image of her playful wink was burned into his mind, it was all he could think about as he made his way back to his lonely tent.

She’d had a drink with him, she’d taken his dagger and brushed his fingers with hers, she’d smiled and winked at him. Voids, she’d even flirted with him, if he wasn’t mistaken - and he was fairly certain he wasn't.

His mind raced as he stripped out of his clothes, intent on seeking his cot. But when he glanced at it he thought about how she might look in it, how it would feel to have her tucked into his arms or lying beneath him, her legs wrapped around his hips.

The thought of spending his night buried deep inside her instead of sleeping alone was highly distracting, and certainly didn’t help with the desperate ache in the lower pit of his belly, nor his hard cock. The wink and his wandering mind hadn’t allowed him to get himself under control after her fingers had brushed against his, after he had felt the teasing feeling of her soft skin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken someone, having been so busy since Cullen asked him to join the Inquisition that he hadn’t had the time. It had to have been back in Kirkwall, before the Seeker showed up and made her offer.

But it wasn’t just the amount of time that had passed since he’d last enjoyed himself. He wanted her, he knew that now more than ever. She was prickly and guarded, though, quick to be defensive, quick to brush him off.

Yet at the same time, she hadn’t run away this time, instead she’d sat close to him, so close he could have easily touched her, kissed her.

He could tell his mind and body weren’t going to let him rest like he needed to, and he flung himself onto his cot with a sigh. Seeking her out was out of the question, he could tell he needed to be careful with the lass, needed to woo her carefully. He wanted more from her than one night of passion, and he knew he could be patient. Seeking out anyone else was out of the question, too, since he could already tell – only her.

She was the only one he wanted now, and he was determined to win her over.

That meant matters were left to him for the time being, and he closed his eyes as he wrapped one of his large, calloused hands around his aching cock. It couldn’t compare to her soft skin, he already knew without having experienced it, but if he tried to imagine it maybe it would do for the time being.

He thought about her dark eyes peering up at him, the way she’d leaned against his arm while they were sitting at the bar. How creamy and tempting her skin had looked, the way the necklaces she wore dangled and rested against the top of her breasts. He had longed to reach out and touch them, to make her gasp as he explored her soft and tempting curves at his leisure.

He wanted to taste every inch of her, feeling certain that she had to taste sweet, that she would make the most sinful sounds if he let his mouth wander over her. He groaned slightly as he thought about it, as his mind conjured the image of her writhing as he buried his face between her legs.

The thought pushed him closer to the edge and he sped up the movement of his hand, stroking himself faster. He hadn’t realized how close he already was, just from a light brush of her fingers, from a playful wink that did nothing but encourage him to continue to lust after her. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met, and even the way she’d countered his teasing with her own, the way she’d been so firm that she didn’t need his help, had helped to arouse him.

Imagining how that passion of hers might translate to more carnal pursuits, he thought again of how she’d look beneath him, her back arching as her legs tightened around him, lost because of pleasure he was giving her.

With a loud moan he came, his spend coating his stomach in spurts as he slowed his hand finally, finishing with a slow, torturous pace. It took him what felt like ages to regain his senses, his mind blank except for thoughts of her, and he heaved a sigh when he finally opened his eyes once more. He had thought it would help him, to get out the tension, but instead all he felt was even more longing to make his fantasies of her a reality.

Aye, he was certainly doomed.


	9. Dream, Reality, Blurry in Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I hadn't forgotten about this fic. Just took a little creative break, but now - it's back! And should be updated more frequently now. I hope. I plan to, at least, we'll see what happens, hehe.
> 
> Also, if you missed it - [this one shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549337) that was gifted for [this art](https://78.media.tumblr.com/4ef8bc9fae508c48adb16720aec50f55/tumblr_p88jlkEhi61wru47ho1_1280.png) is canon for this fic, so give it a read if you want! It took place earlier in the timeline of this fic, but is one of the small moments of interaction between these two. Also check out the art linked there - done by the amazing [Sloth-Race](https://sloth-race.tumblr.com/), who does an amazing Rylen and I absolutely love her Abby. Thank you again! The art is still just so beautiful. *heart eyes*
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me! I know I balance a million WIPs at the same time but they'll all be updated and finished, all in good time. This one especially, I love Abby and Rylen too much to stop. <3
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

Fingers dragged across the skin of her back, light as a feather, and she moaned sleepily, a shiver coursing through her as she felt goosebumps spring up in response.

“Are you awake, Kitten?”

Abby smiled into the pillow, rubbing her cheek against the wonderfully soft sheets as she tried to open her eyes. The bedroom that she loved so much, and the king-sized bed that fulfilled all of her childhood dreams of splendor. She marveled a little that it surprised her - where else did she expect to wake up?

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night, gorgeous,” John murmured as he leaned over her. “I’m glad it’s Saturday, the idea of two days alone with you sounds perfect. Let’s stay in bed, Kitten - I just want you, here in our bed.”

She giggled and nestled back into his arms, but something tugged and clawed at the back of her mind. Something felt wrong - this bed, when was the last time she was in it? That fight, the last one they’d had, before he filed - had it happened?

Tripped - she had tripped, ended up somewhere she never thought possible. Perhaps she had just been asleep, deep slumber drawing out odd dreams that had felt long and  _ real _ , so real she was having a hard time accepting the bed she was currently in.

“What do you say?” John prompted softly, nibbling her earlobe and tracing it with his tongue. “We have so much to make up for, what better way to do it than spending a weekend in bed?”

“John, I -” she trailed off, not fully sure how to express the doubts that were taking root inside her. Something was wrong, she just couldn’t grasp  _ what _ .

“Yes, Kitten?” he breathed, his lips ghosting along the column of her throat, nipping and pressing light kisses to her skin.

“Are we - are we all right? I - must have been dreaming, I -” but she cut off the words when he propped himself over her, brushing her hair aside as he smiled down at her. The wrinkles at the corners of his grey eyes, the smiles lines that creased his face so handsomely every time he gave her that perfect grin - they were all just as she remembered them, down to the last fleck of darker grey in his irises.

“Of course we’re all right,” he assured her. “We’re better than ever. Or rather we will be, if you’d just accept me - we could be so much more.”

“W-what?” she asked with a deep frown. “What do you mean?”

“I want you, Abby,” he told her. His fingers traced down her stomach and he smirked at her. “Say yes, gorgeous. Say you’ll be mine - let me in.”

“Uh -” the realization struck her suddenly and she froze, staring up at him with wide eyes.

_ Don’t ever say yes, Evelyn had told her. _

_ Evelyn. _

_ Thedas. _

_ The Fade. _

_ Real. _

It hadn’t been a dream, it had been her reality. This -  _ this _ was the dream. John, warm and caring, love in those piercing grey eyes.

_ Not real. _

“Get away from me,” she spat, pushing the chest of the stranger, of the - demon - that was propped above her in the bed. “No - the answer is  _ fuck no _ .”

“Are you sure?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he looked at her. “Little mages like you don’t take much to break.”

She flinched and tried to pull away when he took her right arm in his hand, holding it up to read the tattoo etched along her forearm. “Don’t touch me!” she tried to insist, but her attempts to pull out of his grasp were futile.

“Maybe not like this,” he mused, pursing his lips slightly as he released her. “This doesn’t seem to have the effect I thought it would. Are you already forgetting him, no longer wishing you could be home in his arms? No, he’s not what you want, is he.”

For a moment his eyes wandered over her, and then they flashed yellow as he shifted on the bed, rolling off of her so he could sit up.

“Nothing would work,” she told him, her voice low and dangerous. She just needed to wake up, needed to resist until she pulled herself from slumber.

“Nothing?” he challenged. His form shifted, grew broader, more muscular, tattoos appearing, hair darkening - eyes lightening until they were aqua, bright blue. “Not even this? I can see inside, this - this is what you want now, isn’t it? You could have it, have him, if you just said yes. No worries about whether he wants you too, whether or not he would break your heart like John did. I could give you what you really want, without the risk of any pain.”

“Fuck you,” she gritted out. “The answer is no - not now, not ever. Now fuck off before I  _ make _ you.”

“Well, you’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that, little mage,” he mused, his voice mirroring the deep brogue that sent shivers down her spine. 

“Too bad you won’t get to enjoy it,” she said with a sneer.

“We’ll see, lass,” he said slowly, and he winked at her.

Her eyes opened again but this time she was greeted with a different sight, of rustic wooden beams above her head, rough sheets against her naked skin.

Haven.

The Herald’s - and somehow, hers as well - cabin. 

She exhaled slowly as she pushed herself up on her elbows, looking around the room as she tried to take it all in. A demon - the most persistent one yet. Her wanderings in the Fade so far had simply been confusing. She was more likely to get lost than run into anyone, and all she could think was that the Fade was mirroring the way she felt so lost when awake.

Still no idea how she had really arrived here, or what the hell she was going to do now that she seemed to be stuck here with no way back. It had been long enough that, despite everything, she was adjusting. Oddly enough instead of missing John, missing life back home, she missed Evelyn - the one friend she had here, as bizarre and surreal as that was to even think about. Mostly when she thought about Earth she missed the comforts of her modern world, but when she thought about anyone - all she felt was a slight pang, nothing more.

Maybe she would feel differently if things hadn’t been as they were when she had fallen into the Fade. If she and John hadn’t been separating, if she hadn’t spent her day trying to find a new apartment and calling lawyers, neither of which she could really afford without access to their account. If she hadn’t been dancing on a table alone to try to deal with the end of eight years, freeing herself from a manipulative cheater, maybe she’d feel differently at finding herself here.

Instead she was constantly confused by the sense of  _ relief _ that tended to wash over her when she thought about it. Life had been shit, it had been for a while - but now, it was like being free, having a completely fresh start. Not only that, a fresh start in a world she knew about, a world she had been fascinated by but hadn't dreamt could exist. Finding out that it did had actually been a pleasant surprise - if not a thoroughly shocking one. Surely there were worse ways to evade her problems, to escape the troubles she’d been facing on Earth.

Only vaguely did she wonder what John might think about her disappearance. Would he be frustrated, angry? Think that perhaps she was trying to be difficult for him after he filed by disappearing? Had someone reported her missing, were people looking for her? Did they perhaps suspect foul play?

Did he even care she was nowhere to be found?

At that her heart ached ever so slightly, a dull ache that had been perfected over the last year when she thought about the six years of her marriage, the five that she had been so happy, the perfect if not slightly messy two before that. She didn’t want to miss him, miss it, but she did.

Just a tiny, miniscule amount.

Not enough to have even been tempted by the demon’s offer. But then she recalled the way it had shifted, the way it had tapped into something deep inside her that she had been doing her best to ignore.

She’d lost count of how many weeks she had been in Thedas, but she knew it wasn’t long enough to let her mind wander as often as it did to the Knight-Captain. It didn’t help that he always happened to be around, eager to speak with her, only seeming more encouraged after the night they had had whiskey together in the tavern.

He smirked when he saw her, stopped to say hello and ask how she was. He genuinely seemed like he cared about her answer, listening intently before offering any assistance she may need. Did she need help practicing her magic? Did she still have enough coin for food? Did she need to be shown how to use the dagger he’d given her, just in case she found herself needing to use it?

Each offer he made she refused, but he seemed undaunted by her answer and simply found other topics of conversation, other things he could speak with her about to spend more time beside her.

It was unnerving, but not because his attention bothered her the way other men’s tended to, the way the guy in the tavern that night had bothered her. Instead Rylen’s attention bothered her in an entirely different way, every time he stopped to speak with her, every time he sought her out and seemed to enjoy her company. Each time she found herself fighting to match the smile that crossed his face as they spoke.

It was more than a little distracting, and annoying - mostly because it wasn’t as much of either as she expected it to be.

Shaking her head as if she could clear the Fade dream like cobwebs, she sat up finally in the small cot and swung her legs over the side. She wouldn’t tell  _ him _ this, but she was almost out of money for food. Even doing her best to spend it wisely, she’d found herself having to buy new clothes as well, since she got sick of wearing the same t-shirt and jeans day after day, even when she managed to wash them at night. The new linen blouses and leather breeches she had added to her belongings were odd at first, but gradually she got used to them.

It helped that she still had her favorite leather jacket, too. A piece of home, a staple of who she was, grounding her as she tried to adjust. It felt silly, but it acted as a comfort much as a blanket or favorite stuffed animal would for a child.

But she was beginning to get restless, needing to find a way to occupy her time. Her magic was getting easier to control, she needed less time to practice each day now. And the need for money was taking precedence in her mind. She wasn’t entirely certain Evelyn had expected to be gone for this long, and it had struck her as odd that she had never thought about how long the missions had taken.

The game always made it feel instantaneous, like everything happened within a day, like everything only lasted a month total, if that. Now here, living it - how long was everything going to actually take? How far was she from the fall of Haven, how far from Skyhold?

She tried to push the worries and thoughts aside. One thing at a time, and right now - money, food, supplies.

Time to be self-sufficient, like she always had been. Until, well…

No need to beat herself up about that at the moment. She could get back to it, could take care of things herself again. As much as she wanted to ask for help, to see if Rylen maybe knew what she could do to assist or make coin, she refused to seek him out.

And she denied that it had anything to do with what the desire demon had tapped into, what it had used to taunt her. She just didn't want to rely on him, she told herself. He was busy with his duties and the Inquisition, and she was a nobody. Getting her a job wasn’t important, she told herself.

She dressed quickly and counted the coin left in her purse, intending to get some breakfast before she started trying to figure out what she could do for work. Instinctively she checked the loose wooden beam she had hidden her ring beneath, not entirely certain why she cared. The thought of selling it crossed her mind more often than not, but she also wondered whether or not any merchant here would actually be able or want to purchase it. After all they mostly sold supplies - and a diamond ring was useless.

Deciding maybe she’d speak with Evelyn about it when she came back, she finally left the cabin to set out for the tavern. Haven was bustling as always, recruits and soldiers, scouts, messengers and craftsmen running from place to place, while villagers also did what they could to assist the Inquisition. Abby made her way through the activity on the path, still marveling at watching everything actually happening around her, things she had never thought she would experience for herself outside of a screen, as an observer.

“Commander, our scouts came back from the area west of Haven. They reported that the remaining demons have been eliminated.” At the sound of the deep brogue her heart leapt into her throat and she glanced around so that she could head in the opposite direction and not run into him. She wasn’t certain she was up for it at the moment.

If only Thedas had coffee.

“Very good, Captain,” the Commander’s voice answered, and she jumped when she realized the voices were coming from right behind her. “And no more reports of rifts in the immediate areas?”

“Uh - no Commander,” Rylen answered, and she noticed a hitch in his tone. There was a group of recruits in front of her that she couldn’t push through easily, and she heard footsteps stop right behind her. “Morning, lass - need something?”

She grumbled and turned to the face the two men, scowling as she took in Rylen’s easy smile and Cullen’s raised eyebrows. “I don’t need something every time you see me,  _ Captain _ ,” she gritted out, folding her arms across her chest as if she could protect herself from his piercing gaze.

“No, true - you just looked lost,” he suggested with a shrug. “Thought maybe we could point you in the right direction.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t retort as she wanted to, furtively glancing at Cullen. For some reason the presence of the Commander made her more apprehensive than normal, and she swallowed before she answered. “I’m fine, just headed to get some breakfast.”

“Ah, of course - we were headed the same way actually,” Rylen answered, gesturing for her to lead the way.

Cullen shot him a surprised look, eyebrows raised, that Abby could only interpret to mean,  _ ‘we were?’ _

“I - well, I -” she stuttered out, but at Rylen’s continual grin she sighed and spun on her heel to continue to the tavern. She walked quickly, navigating through the scouts and messengers, trying to ignore the sound of crunching footsteps behind her. She was annoyed - but mostly because her mind kept conjuring the dream, him in her bed - though she immediately reminded herself it had been a demon.

That did little to help banish the image.

When she pushed into the tavern it was full of scouts and recruits, all shoveling the morning gruel - something that seemed a mix of oatmeal and grits - into their mouths so they could head out. Several of them caught sight of Rylen and Cullen as they walked in and almost choked before they began eating faster.

Abby approached the bar to pass over coin for her meal, but Rylen got his out as if he wanted to hand some over first.

“Stop, please -” she protested, and he met her scowl with a frown.

“How much coin do you have left, lass?” he asked, studying her face intently before he looked down at her purse.

“Enough,” she answered simply, avoiding his gaze. When Flissa approached Abby made certain that she accepted her coin and not Rylen’s for her meal, and then pushed her way to a table to take a seat. Rylen and Cullen took seats across from her and she shifted, chafed under their scrutinizing gazes. She wondered a little at the small hope she’d had that they wouldn’t sit at her table - but of course they did.

When she accidentally caught Cullen’s eye she noticed him watching her, but when she raised an eyebrow at him he cleared his throat and looked away. She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, but avoided looking to the other man - she could feel his eyes on her, so instead she looked at her hands resting on the table. Maybe if she said something the tension would crack, since neither of them seemed keen to converse all of a sudden.

“So - you guys eat breakfast here too? Swear it’s the first time I’ve seen you in here, you must come early,” she mused, tapping the fingers of one hand on the scrubbed wooden table.

“On occasion,” Rylen answered. “Need to keep an eye on the recruits, stop by from time to time, make certain they don’t take to drink before training.”

“Not sure I could blame them if they did,” Abby told him with a shrug, finally glancing up to meet his gaze. “After all, the Breach is still there, just - looming. It’s enough to make anyone need a stiff drink.”

“Some more than others,” Cullen muttered.

“I - that supposed to mean something?” Abby demanded, sitting up slightly straighter as she scowled at him.

He raised an eyebrow as he met her gaze, seeming to think for a moment before he replied. “Merely that some of our recruits take to the drink more than they should,” he answered. “Or did you think I was speaking of you, Miss -”

“Please just call me Abby,” she interrupted, flinching slightly.

Was she Mrs. Baker still? No one here knew which one was correct, she could be Henderson again, flawlessly, without the hassle of a court case.

A fresh start, no questions. Except, perhaps, the ones she could tell were waiting on the tip of Cullen’s tongue as he regarded her across the table. Almost desperately she wished Rylen would cut in, that he would tease her, offer assistance, ask a question, anything. Cullen’s piercing amber gaze was bothering her - and not in the way Rylen’s did, the way she vaguely enjoyed it.

Fuck, what was the matter with her? Was this still a part of the Fade? It was such a weird morning, maybe it was, maybe she never woke up like she thought she had.

“Well then, Abby - Rylen tells me you have not remembered anything else from the Fade, much like the Herald,” Cullen mused slowly. “Do you remember your homeland? Or is that also a mystery?”

“I remember it,” Abby answered almost automatically. “I - that is - the only bit of memory I’m missing is how I got here. Otherwise, I mean - I remember who I am, all of that. I’m not suffering from full amnesia or anything.”

“Ah, I see,” Cullen said. “So then - do you mind telling me more about your homeland? Rylen and the Herald have not been able to provide much information.”

“I’d have to tell them something to pass on,” Abby grumbled. She shifted and glanced behind her, wishing Flissa would hurry up with their breakfasts, that she could change the subject to food or something simple instead. 

“Is there a reason you are not speaking of where you are from? One would think you would miss it, that you would try to make your way back,” Cullen pointed out. There was more than a small hint of trepidation in his tone, more than a slight suspicion in the quirk of his eyebrows.

“I - there’s not much waiting for me there, plus,” Abby sighed and chewed the cuticle of one thumb before she continued. “I - I doubt there’s a way back, so - why get my hopes up? I’m better off just accepting that I’m fucked, and make the best of it. It shouldn’t have even been possible to get here so - no point hoping a miracle can happen twice.”

“Not possible to get here?” Cullen repeated. “Interesting - what makes you say that?”

“I - god I need coffee. Do you guys have a drink that helps wake you up better? Like tea, only stronger?” Abby grumbled. “I feel like I need a full pot or two of coffee, I fucking miss it.”

“Coffee?” Rylen chimed in finally. “Is that a drink, lass?”

“Yeah, it has caffeine - uh, makes you able to stay awake longer, be more alert. I drank it every morning, I’m useless without it, these last few weeks - months? Have sucked,” she groused. “I could answer questions better if I had some - and don’t worry, Commander, I know how much you want to ask questions.”

“Well, yes, I do, as I am certain you could understand anyone wanting to question someone - someone like - well, you,” Cullen explained with a slight shrug.

As he spoke Flissa appeared at his elbow, balancing three bowls and three cups of water. She set them down before the three at the table and then gave a slight bow, her actions harried, her brow glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Abby frowned and glanced around the tavern, suddenly realizing she didn’t see anyone else trying to deliver meals or drinks to the patrons of the tavern.

Did Flissa really run it all on her own?

Pursing her lips she glanced around again, tapping her spoon absently on the rim of the bowl she’d been brought.

After all, bartender  _ was _ the most recent item on her resume….

“Lass?”

“Hm?” she hummed, turning back to face her unusual breakfast companions. Rylen was staring at her with a slight frown, and she realized she must have missed something he had said. “Sorry, distracted.”

“Aye, clearly,” he nodded as he said it, his frown disappearing. “I was just asking about breakfast where you’re from, what sort of food you ate.”

She glanced down at the odd mix of bland grains, scooping up a spoonful and then letting it drip back into the bowl with a soft  _ plop _ . “Um - I mostly had bagels when I actually ate breakfast,” she told them. “Round pieces of bread, you could toast them, sometimes they had um, seeds on them, or bits of fruit or flavors in them. Put some shmear - er, cream cheese on them, and - that’s what I ate. I wasn’t one for cooking, really.”

“Bag-els?” Rylen asked, dragging out the word as he mispronounced it.

“Bagels,” she repeated, giggling when she looked up at him. “They were definitely tastier than this. Is this what you all usually eat or, um, is this just - low supplies?”

Cullen shifted slightly and almost seemed to scowl at her. “The Inquisition is doing its best -”

“Whoa, that wasn’t a criticism, just - curiosity,” she hurried to insist, holding up a hand defensively. “This is all weird to me, I mean - the worst I had to deal with in my life was -” She trailed off though, not finishing her joke. She had been about to tease about New York, to exaggerate and tell them something trivial to show just how much of a shock this all was for her, just how unusual. 

But she thought about the lies, about John and their fights, about how she’d been having to look for a place in the rundown bits of the city and how she hadn’t known if she’d be able to afford even that.

“Are you all right, Abigail?” Rylen asked, the tone of his voice soft and low.

“I - sorry, I just - surely you can both understand this is weird for me, right?” she deflected. “I’m just still trying to figure it all out. I mean it’s not that bad, not really. Then again I’ve just been here in Haven, under the Inquisition’s protection, I - I imagine it’s even worse, further out in the world.”

“It is,” Cullen confirmed softly, and she was surprised to see an understanding look in his eyes. “But do not worry, the Inquisition is doing what it can to make things right in Thedas. And perhaps along the way we can find a way to return you to your world, or discover how you came to be here, what happened in the Fade.”

Abby pressed her lips together and nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. It was easiest if she simply stared down at her food, pushing it around with her spoon. Suddenly she wasn’t as hungry as she had been when she woke up.

“In the meantime - Eve - the Herald, asked what we may do to employ you,” Cullen said.

“I - no, really, I can figure that out, I don’t need you to -” Abby began to protest, but she stopped short when she saw the look on Cullen’s face.

“We need people, and you likely need coin,” Cullen pointed out. “We could help each other.”

“I - I’m not sure how useful I’d be, I mean - I know so little about everything here,” she tried to insist. She hated that Evelyn had asked them to do this, but she should have known she would. Too caring, all goodness and light - of course she would ask them to help.

“Fortunately for you we have plenty of small tasks that need to be performed, such as messages that need to be passed along, alchemists and healers that need extra sets of hands -”

“I - um, you know, I think actually I have something,” Abby said slowly. “How about I - I’ll let you know if I can?”

“If you can?” Cullen repeated, quirking an eyebrow at her. He looked like he wanted to insist but Rylen nudged his arm with his elbow. 

He’d been watching her intently the entire conversation, a thoughtful frown on his face. “If the lass says she has something, I’m certain she does,” he said. “If it falls through lass, well, find either one of us and we’ll get you sorted. Is that agreeable?”

“I - yes, I suppose,” Cullen agreed slowly.

“I need the coin, don’t worry if I - if I can help out, I’ll find the time,” Abby assured them. “But otherwise, I - I think I have an opportunity.”

Cullen shrugged and pushed his bowl away from him now that it was empty. “As you say, Abby,” he said. “Well, shall we Captain? We have plenty to do, the Herald should be back either tomorrow or the next day.”

“Of course, Commander,” Rylen said, pushing his bowl away as well. He glanced at Abby, hesitating for a moment as if he wanted to say something more. Instead he smiled and gave her a wink. “Until later, lass. Perhaps when I have time again I’ll buy you a drink and you can tell me more about coffee and ba-bagels.”

She giggled despite herself, wondering if he really did want to hear more about Earth’s food. But she shrugged and gestured her spoon in a farewell. “Sure, sounds like a good time.”

A look of pleasant surprise came across his face and he finally pushed himself to his feet. “Aye, see you, Abigail.”

“Bye, Rylen,” she said, still smiling. But she caught herself and frowned down into her bowl, wondering at the brief flare of contentment she had just felt, the smile she had offered so freely. Desire had been right - and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she scowled to herself, hating that it had been right, hating that this was how she began to realize it.

Maybe it was just her familiarity from playing the game, from -

_ Nope, not thinking about that. _

She decided to channel her irritation into work instead, and as soon as she felt full she set her spoon down and took a deep breath. Thedas likely didn’t have job interviews - and she marveled a little at the way she had so quickly brushed off Cullen’s offer. Guaranteed work, at Evelyn’s insistence. But the idea of running errands, delivering messages, just randomly being bossed around to fill her time - it didn’t sound engaging, didn’t sound fulfilling.

If she was stuck in Thedas, then she was going to make the most of it, and not just work to survive. She wanted a chance to experience this world, to get to know it, to know the people in it.

With that thought she picked up the bowls at their table and stacked them, stacking the empty cups of water as well. She stood and began her walk to the bar, noticing other empty bowls and cups on tables, and as she passed she added them as well. By the time she reached the bar she was balancing two towers of cups and bowls easily, smiling as she did so.

“Oh - dear, no, it’s - I’ve got them,” Flissa said when she saw Abby approaching. She hurried around the bar, taking the bowls. “You don’t need to - apologies for being slow, I was just -”

“You were just overwhelmed,” Abby pointed out softly, but she smiled reassuringly. “Are they really making you run this place on your own?”

“It - it wasn’t this busy when we started out, but more people keep coming every day, and I - I suppose you’re right,” Flissa sighed as she set the stack of bowls down behind the bar. “I - I am a bit overwhelmed.”

Abby set the cups down and shrugged her leather jacket off so she could push the sleeves of her blouse up. “Luckily for you I happen to be looking for a job,” she began. “If you can pay, I’d be more than happy to help you run things around here.”

“I - I could pay you thirty silvers for half a day’s work,” Flissa offered, looking hesitant. She almost seemed as if she thought that was asking too much from Abby.

Pursing her lips, Abby considered for a moment before she countered the offer with her own. “Fifty, and I’ll work just as many hours as you do.”

“I - deal!” Flissa agreed. “Let me show you around, now that the morning bustle is over. And - thank you -”

“Abby,” she answered the lingering unspoken question with a bright grin.

It was easy, falling back into the rhythm of work even though she hadn’t done it for years. Once she knew where everything was she was able to simply focus on what she was doing, burying herself in her tasks as a distraction. Her irritation didn’t disappear, it just wasn’t at the forefront of her mind, and she found herself glad for that at least. The tavern was busy considering it was the only real place to socialize and get a drink, one of the only places for food - and the food, bland as it was, was far more appetizing than whatever the Inquisition’s cook managed to produce for everyone.

Time flew by, and before she knew it beyond the windows was dusky, night time almost upon them. She’d hardly noticed, and when she paused to absorb the fact that she had worked all day Flissa stopped beside her.

“Fifty silver may not be enough,” Flissa sighed as she looked around the crowded tavern. “This is the easiest day of work I’ve had in weeks, thanks to you.”

Abby smirked and wiped her hands off on the rag she had tucked into the waist of her breeches. “Whenever you feel like giving me a raise, feel free,” she quipped. “I wish I’d thought of this sooner, I’ve been scrimping and penny pinching.”

“I - penny pinching?” Flissa frowned as she repeated it.

“Oh, right - um, saving coin,” Abby translated. She met Flissa’s confusion with a smile and hurried to help a new customer at the bar - but stopped short when she saw who it was. “W-what can I get for you?”

The dwarf grumbled slightly and slid coin across the bar. “Ale, the biggest tankard you’ve got,” Varric requested.

Abby nodded eagerly and hurried to pour his ale, careful not to spill a drop as she set it before him and picked up the coin in exchange. “Is that all?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Varric rubbed his brow as he said it. He picked up his tankard and took a long pull before he wiped his mouth and smacked his lips. Glancing up he offered her a smile that turned quickly into a slight frown. “Say, you’re - Abby, right?”

“I - um, yeah, how did you -” Abby stuttered out, taken aback by the fact that Varric - Varric Tethras, of all people - knew her by name.

“Sparkles - er, Evelyn,” Varric explained. “She talked about you a lot, sounded worried about leaving you behind. Kid’s got a good heart, but it was clear she was trying to distract herself from everything else by worrying about you back here in Haven.”

“I - didn’t realize she’d care that much,” Abby muttered. “Wait, if you’re here - you’re all back from the Hinterlands?”

“Yep,” Varric answered before taking another deep drink of ale. “Finally. I thought we’d never leave, damned Templars and mages tearing the whole area up. I’ve seen shit in my life, but nothing like that madness. Thedas is falling apart, and poor Sparkles is caught in the middle of it all, trying to fix it almost by herself.”

Abby watched as he shook his head, staring into his tankard of ale. She frowned, resting her hands on the bar as she considered his words. “Is Evelyn all right? You’re making it sound like something happened.”

He raised his gaze to hers, pursing his lips for a moment while he thought. “How much do you know about her?”

“I - just what she’s told me, we’ve - mostly talked about magic, the Fade, that sort of thing,” Abby answered, dodging the truth of the matter. If Evelyn was just as she’d imagined her, well - then she knew a great deal about her, but it was best if no one really knew that. “Why?”

Varric sighed and shook his head. “Poor Sparkles only ever left the Circle to get to the Conclave - and we all know how that turned out for her,” he began. “She’d never been in real combat before she started fighting demons underneath the Breach, but those were  _ demons _ . The Hinterlands, though - the fighting is bad, real bad. We were killing Templars, mages, bandits - I’m amazed at how they just seemed to keep coming at us. I think perhaps it was more than a little rough on her. Seemed real shaken up about it, having issues sleeping, not talking at camp at night. I think it got to her.”

“Shit,” Abby breathed. “Is she - where is she? War council, or?”

“Back at her cabin, I’d wager,” Varric answered. “Or, I guess - your cabin, since you sleep there too. Wonder if she wanted to see you when she got back, or if she just wanted to hide from the world. I can’t really say I blame her if it’s the latter.”

“But you could for the former?” Abby teased, and when he smirked at her she winked. “Thanks for telling me, I think - I think you’re right, maybe I should - if I can leave, I should see - check on her, maybe…”

Abby trailed off as she stared around the busy tavern.  _ Fifty silver and I’ll work as many hours as you do. _ But now, all of a sudden, all she wanted was to run out of the tavern and go check on Evelyn.

Maybe if things died down, she could sneak away for a bit, and come back. It would be worth the pay cut to make certain Evelyn was all right. The Hinterlands, fighting fellow mages, having to kill and carry the weight of the Inquisition on her shoulders - Abby could only imagine how she must be feeling. And she was so young, so naive and gentle. It had to be more than just a rude awakening.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Varric asked, pulling Abby out of her musings.

“No, I’m not,” she told him. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, just something Sparkles said,” he told her. “She said Thedas, magic, all of this - it’s all new to you?”

“Yeah, basically,” Abby answered with a shrug.

Varric let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he contemplated his tankard. “That’s rough, Flash.”

“Flash?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she stared at him.

Was it just her, or had she just been granted a Tethras Nickname?

“Yeah, you’re all flash, all style - have you ever been a character in a book? You’d make for an excellent barmaid with a secret heart of gold in my next installment of Hard in Hightown,” Varric mused.

“Only if you refer to me as a bar wench, and exaggerate all of my characteristics and mannerisms,” Abby replied, pointing with a finger as she winked at him. “Then I’ll be okay with it.”

“Deal,” Varric agreed, chuckling into his tankard of ale.

For a time they spoke about things in general, Abby trying not to reveal anything, being careful how she asked questions, how she phrased things. Varric was perceptive, he would pick up on anything she said that was a little off, she knew it. And so she guarded her words, her responses, keeping everything light and casual as they spoke between her helping other patrons.

When things seemed to slow into a steady rhythm in the tavern, Abby bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked around. Maybe now, maybe she could slip away now and not cause Flissa any issues?

Varric’s words, his concerns about Evelyn had stuck with her, and she knew she couldn’t rest until she’d made certain she was all right. The feelings were odd, and she couldn’t tell if she solely felt friendship or also felt protective, knowing that Evelyn was the only one who could save Thedas.

After all, it was Abby’s world now, too, and if she could do anything to protect or help its savior, well - she’d do it, gladly.

“Hey, Flissa, any chance I could sneak away for a bit?” she asked.

“Off to see a fella?” Flissa asked, smiling knowingly.

“Um, actually no, the - the Herald,” Abby answered honestly. “She’s back, I - I want to check on her.”

“Oh!” Flissa’s eyes widened. “Yes, please - feel free.”

“I’ll be back to help you close, I just - want to go see her, make certain she’s all right,” Abby explained. “See you in a few?”

“Of course,” Flissa said, nodding solemnly. “Take your time.”

Abby jerked her head in a nod and wiped her hands on her rag before she began to navigate her way through their patrons to the door. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Flissa to do all of their work, but what Varric had said - something was telling her to seek out Evelyn.

The paths of Haven were nearly deserted, only patrols wandering in the meager light from the fires spread throughout the village. Abby hurried along, surprisingly familiar with the way - and not just because of her time spent there the last few weeks.

When she reached the cabin the lights were off, no lamps lit that she could tell, and she hesitated a moment before she tried the door.

It was locked.

“I - Evelyn?” she called tentatively through the door. “Hey, it’s - it’s Abby, are you in there? I - I’d like to come in, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh!”

The soft, gasped exclamation somehow reassured Abby, making her realize the locked door hadn’t been fully intentional. It was as if Evelyn had forgotten that perhaps Abby would come back as well, that the cabin wasn’t just hers alone.

When the door opened and Evelyn peeked out of it, Abby raised her eyebrows at the pale color of her face, the wide-eyed apprehension that was evident in her gaze. “S-sorry, I - I just - oh Abby, it’s been such a terrible night,” Evelyn greeted, and she stepped back so that Abby could enter the cabin.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked immediately, frowning as she watched the younger woman close the door behind them. Her fingers were trembling as she turned the lock of the door, and she rested her forehead against the sturdy wood for a moment before she glanced back at Abby.

“I - it’s nothing, really, just - someone was drunk, and they -” she trailed off and absently pulled her simple brown robes around herself more tightly. “I’m - I’m fine, just - I had the dagger, and Cul - the Commander showed up, I’m -”

“Slow down, Evelyn,” Abby implored her. “What are you talking about?”

“I was walking through Haven, and I - I didn’t hear them come up behind me,” Evelyn whispered. Her arms were tight across her chest, her lightning eyes downcast. “A drunkard, he - he was trying to - he cornered me, and I - he almost - I just -”

But again she trailed off, only this time Abby fully grasped why. She stepped closer, tentative but wanting to offer comfort, understanding. After all, how many times had she come close to the same, had she shoved off overeager assholes? “Are you all right?” she asked, frowning as she watched Evelyn continue to avoid her gaze.

“I - yes, I am,” the Herald answered, her voice wavering but the look in her eyes firm as she raised her head once more. “I am fine, really, Abby. It was just - a shock, and after - after everything, I just…”

Abby waited hesitantly, hoping she would finish the thought on her own. When she didn’t, Abby sighed and put her hands on her hips. “I understand from Varric that the Hinterlands were - crazy?”

“Please, I don’t - I don’t want to think about it,” Evelyn murmured, rubbing her brow with her pale, thin fingers.

“Right, sorry,” Abby hurried to assure her. “I just - you were gone for so long, I was - worried about you.”

Evelyn giggled slightly, shooting Abby a furtive glance. “I was worried about you too, I -” she paused and stared for a moment before she offered a sheepish grin. “I’ve never had a friend to worry over while I was away, never had anyone else think about. Nowhere to go, either.”

“You didn’t have friends in the Circle?” Abby asked.

“Not really,” Evelyn answered with a sigh. “I thought I had one, but he - he didn’t just want to be my friend, and I - didn’t feel the same.”

“Ooo, friend zone?” Abby asked, giggling slightly. When Evelyn frowned at her she sighed and pursed her lips. “I take it he didn’t respond well to rejection, is what you mean?”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Evelyn told her. “I suppose though, I was - close to the First Enchanter, and some of the instructors, but - it was different. It didn’t feel like friendship. This - does.”

Abby offered a small, slightly sad smile. “I agree,” she said finally. “Friends.”

Evelyn smiled warmly, giggling a little under her breath. “Did you get into any trouble while I was gone?”

“Oh, I burned down half of Haven, hadn’t you noticed?” Abby quipped, gesturing a hand lazily, carelessly, and she smiled when Evelyn laughed. “I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m - I’m glad you seem to be doing well,” Evelyn said when she finished laughing. “How have you been in the Fade?”

“Hmm,” Abby hummed, moving to sit on the edge of Evelyn’s bed. “I - um, the Fade is very perceptive, isn’t it?”

Evelyn closed the distance and sat facing Abby on the bed, perched on the edge of the mattress as if she was ready to flee at any moment. She was still feeling whatever shock her encounter had caused her, it seemed. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “I take it you’ve been having some experiences?”

“Just - nothing important,” Abby hurried to assure her. “I was just making an observation. You, though - stop avoiding my questions. How are you, really? And what’s this about a drunkard -”

“It’s - nothing, please don’t worry -”

“It’s my job to -”

“No, it isn’t -”

“You’ve taken care of me, let me - let me at least help with this,” Abby implored her.

For several moments Evelyn glowered at her, pale lightning eyes piercing her as if they could see through Abby, but then she heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Fine. I - um,” she pursed her lips and then gave another, smaller sigh. “I was simply walking Haven and - oh, Abby, it happened so suddenly, I didn’t even have time to - to react, to do anything, and then I - I -”

Here she trailed off, and Abby watched her for a moment before she reached out with a hand. “Take your time,” she encouraged softly, squeezing Evelyn’s fingers.

“I forgot I was a mage,” Evelyn breathed, her eyes clenched tightly shut. “It was so stupid, I - feel - so stupid. I panicked, I didn’t know what to do, and he was pulling at my clothes, I -” At this she tugged again at the robes she was wearing in an attempt to adjust them around herself, as if she felt exposed.

“Did he hurt you?” Abby asked, frowning as she watched Evelyn’s timidity, the way she seemed a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment.

“Just - scared me, twisted my wrist a little, tore m - my shirt,” Evelyn answered.

“Your wrist? Let me - let me take a look,” Abby said, reaching for Evelyn’s hand.

Evelyn sighed and held out her wrist for Abby to feel. “It’s nothing, Abby, really,” she insisted, but she flinched slightly when Abby tried to move her wrist.

“Sure about that?” Abby pointed out. “We can - get you some ice, or snow -”

“Or you could heal it,” Evelyn mused slowly.

“What? No - I - I couldn’t, go to Adan, or -” Abby protested, dropping Evelyn’s wrist.

“Abby, you can,” Evelyn insisted, and she held her wrist out again. “You practiced while I was gone, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah, but - not healing magic -”

“It’s not that different, and it’s a skill you should learn,” Evelyn told her. “Please, do it for me, it twinges something awful.”

Abby sighed and arched her neck before she accepted Evelyn’s wrist again. “You just had to guilt trip me,” she muttered.

Evelyn giggled lightly and then cleared her throat. “Focus on the feeling of my skin, if you really concentrate, it’s like - being able to see the wound, even if it’s inside,” she explained. When Abby raised her eyebrows skeptically, Evelyn shrugged. “That’s the best I can describe it.”

With a shake of her head and a soft chuckle, Abby ran her fingers along Evelyn’s wrist, focusing intently. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to see inside - as odd as that was for her. Evelyn had been right though, and soon Abby felt it, like warmth, like a path, a map showing her the way. Healing - that had to come from tenderness, care, and she meditated on those feelings as she tried to channel her magic into where she held Evelyn’s wrist.

Sure enough she felt it, like a pulsing vibration, and when she opened her eyes she saw soft, sage green light glowing from her fingers and surrounding Evelyn’s wrist.

“Excellent, Abby,” Evelyn murmured. “Thank you, that’s - much better.”

Abby could tell when it had mended, when the muscles had unkinked and the swelling had gone down, and she released Evelyn once more. “That was - wow,” Abby said. “I’m still just - so amazed by everything here.”

“How did you heal, where you’re from?” Evelyn asked.

“With time and medicine,” Abby answered with a shrug. “Nothing this quick, this wonderful. I - Thedas is - amazing. Truly.”

“Are you - do you miss your home?” Evelyn’s voice lowered, barely a whisper, as if she was worried to ask it.

“Sometimes,” Abby admitted. “But things were - not great. I mean, my husband and I were separating, we’d been fighting, he’d - cheated on me, had a mistress. Honestly I’d been thinking about how much I wanted a fresh start, I - I never thought I’d get one quite like this, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn murmured. “That sounds - I’m sorry he did those things. I can’t imagine. For what it’s worth, I’m - I’m happy that you’re here. It helps me feel a little less - alone. Thank you, for being my friend.”

Abby stared at her for a moment, speechless. “I - thank you, as well,” Abby told her. “I feel the same way, without you I’m - alone, as well.”

Evelyn smiled, shyly pushing her long black hair behind her ear. “Can I - can I tell you something? As a friend?”

“Of course,” Abby nodded.

“The Commander, he - he carried me back to the cabin, after he - he kicked the drunkard out of Haven,” Evelyn began slowly. If Abby wasn’t mistaken, she was almost blushing. “He wanted to make certain I was all right, and he - brought me here. But when he set me down he - his armor caught on my torn shirt, and it - oh Abby I’m so mortified.”

Abby watched as Evelyn covered her eyes with her hands, the slight blush that had begun on her cheeks spreading down to her neck. “What, did you - did he see?”

Evelyn nodded and lowered her hands once more. “Yes, he - I wasn’t wearing my breastband, and I - oh Abby, how will I ever face him again? He - he stared and then he acted so odd, I just - I have to see him at the war council tomorrow, but - why are you laughing?”

“I’m - I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just,” Abby tried to calm her laughter so she could explain. But her suspicions about why Cullen’s gaze had lingered, why he had acted oddly after catching sight of Evelyn’s bare breast were too much. The look she was picturing on his face was making her almost hysterical. “I - I wouldn’t be too mortified, if I were you. I’m sure the Commander will be a perfect gentleman. Plus, I mean - there’s worse things than someone like him catching a peek and enjoying it, right?”

Evelyn gasped but then playfully shoved at Abby’s shoulder as they both dissolved into giggles. “I - I suppose you’re right,” Evelyn said when she finally calmed again. “I would just hate to lose - I mean he and I - I enjoy speaking with him, I don’t want things to - to change. I - enjoy his company.”

Abby hummed noncommittally, deciding not to voice her theories, to say the things she almost knew for a fact were true. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Evelyn,” she said instead. “I doubt he’ll suddenly stop speaking to you because of it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Evelyn agreed softly. “I’ve - I’ve never - I don’t know. So much has happened, I’m trying to keep up but I just feel like I’m caught in a whirlwind. It’s too much, but speaking with him, having you as a friend, it - helps.”

“Well, that I completely understand - you’ve been through a lot,” Abby mused. “You should get some sleep, do you - do you want me to stay?”

“No, you don’t need to do that, I’ll be fine,” Evelyn insisted. “Although - wait, where are you going?”

“Oh, I started working at the tavern, helping Flissa out,” Abby told her with a smile.

“I - but I told the Commander to get you work, to have you assist Adan -” Evelyn frowned, almost sounding annoyed.

“He did, he offered me work like you asked,” Abby assured her. “I just - I think I prefer this. Talking to people, keeping up morale - that’s important too. And poor Flissa was overwhelmed. I - I can help, and I’m enjoying it.”

Evelyn pursed her lips but then she nodded. “All right, I suppose, if you’re enjoying it,” she agreed before she stifled a sudden yawn.

“Yep, bedtime,” Abby said, pushing herself off the edge of the bed. “I promise I’ll be quiet when I come back, you need your sleep.”

“All right,” Evelyn nodded. “And - thank you, again, Abby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Evelyn,” Abby offered a wide smile and then turned to leave the cabin. 

Once outside, the door firmly closed behind her, she glanced up and down the path before she set out. She mused over everything Evelyn had told her, what she had said had happened. It was almost amusing, the way she almost seemed more distraught over Cullen catching sight of her bared than the attack itself.

She wondered a little if Evelyn even knew why it bothered her, or if she was naive about that at the moment.

“You’re out late, lass.”

“Jesus!” Abby jumped and placed a hand over her heart, spinning to face the direction the voice had come from. “Don’t just - sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry, I - I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rylen assured her as he stopped before her. “Everything all right?”

“Besides being scared out of my mind just now, yeah, actually,” she answered. “I - I found work like I told you, I’m actually headed back now.”

“This late? What are you doing?” A deep frown came across his face as he asked, his eyes wandering over her face. He was wearing his armor, but his helmet was dangling in his hand, and she almost wondered if he was heading to his tent for the night.

She cleared her throat to banish the sudden thought that crept into her mind. “I’m helping Flissa,” she told him.

“At - you’re working at the tavern?” he asked, and she was surprised at the scowl that came across his face.

“Yes,” she answered slowly. “Why, something wrong with that?”

“I - I just thought - the recruits are rowdy, lass, I don’t want anything happening to you,” he grumbled. He dragged a gloved hand down his chin, glancing away from her as if he was thinking.

“You know I can take care of myself, you’ve seen me do it,” she insisted. “I’m not a kid, or helpless, or anything. I’ll be fine. Plus it’s good money, and Flissa needed the help.”

“I - fine,” he agreed. When he returned his aqua gaze to hers, though, he was still frowning. “Promise me you’ll tell me if anyone gives you any trouble, Abigail. Please.”

Her eyebrows rose as she considered him, her lips parting in surprise at the genuine concern in his tone. “I - yeah, all right, I promise,” she agreed. “I suppose if anything you’d hate for your recruits to be manhandling someone, like what happened with the Herald -”

“What happened with the Herald?” he interrupted, stepping closer as his frown deepened further.

“Oh, some drunk guy tried to corner her,” Abby told him. “She’s fine, she fought him off and Cullen showed up in time, I guess -”

A sudden bark of laughter greeted her words, and Rylen shook his head as he ran his hand through his wavy hair. “I suppose that explains the Commander’s black mood just now,” he mused. “I was wondering what had caused it. He seemed ready to throttle the next scout who breathed too loudly, and I thought he’d be happy the Herald was back earlier than we expected.”

Abby giggled at the implication, at the news that Cullen had still been angry. Rylen eyed her as she laughed, a smile on his face. “Wow, he’s got it bad,” Abby muttered before she could stop herself.

Something shifted in Rylen’s gaze, his smile softening as he regarded her for a moment. “Aye, that he does, lass,” he agreed, but the tone of his voice made her wonder.

Her laughter died and she awkwardly cleared her throat, looking away from him. “I should get back to work, I only snuck away to check on Evelyn. I’ll - I’ll see you around,” she said.

“Aye, you will - after all, we have plans to get a drink, don’t we?” he asked, and when she looked at him he winked.

“R-right, we do,” she agreed. “Um - good night.”

“Good night, Abigail,” he murmured.

She gave him one last fleeting smile before she turned and hurried toward the tavern, but she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at him. And she hated that she couldn’t help the way her heart seemed to skip a beat when she saw that he was still standing watching her go.


	10. Yours is the Face, Which Makes My Body Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said updates more frequently I didn't necessarily mean this quickly, hehe. However, writer's block broke and I've been planning this chapter for a while, so why not go ahead and write it! After neglecting this fic for a while it feels good to be working on it again. These two are just too perfect.  
> Hope you enjoy! The updated tags should be a hint for you.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

“Interesting - two days in a row, now,” the voice he’d wanted to hear most said from behind him. “I suppose three really, counting the day before that, too.”

“Man’s got to eat,” he answered with a chuckle, turning to look over his shoulder. He smirked when he caught her eye, and his insides fluttered when she returned it in kind.

“Mmhmm, and suddenly a man only eats at the tavern?” she asked, her tone teasing. She circled around the bar where he was sitting, stopping before him to lean against the wood. “You and the Commander must really be worried about your trainees taking to drink. Don’t trust me, Captain? Think I’m getting all the recruits sloshed before their duties?”

“Not at all, lass,” Rylen assured her, laughing under his breath at the term she used. “Just feeling like a change of pace, that’s all.”

Abigail quirked an eyebrow at him, the corners of her lips still barely hinting at a smirk. “So I take it you want the usual?”

He shook his head and let out a few barks of laughter before he spoke. “Aye, thank you, Abigail,” he told her.

Rylen watched as she set to work behind the bar, walking to the corner where they kept the breakfast they served so that she could get his meal ready. He wondered a little if he should feel embarrassed at how easily she had noticed he had changed his routine once she told him she was working at the tavern. Then again, she’d only teased lightly, and he couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem annoyed or angry to see him.

Instead she kept smiling at him.

When she set the bowl in front of him and passed him a spoon she winked, still smiling. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you, lass,” he said. “Except maybe some conv -”

But he trailed off when he saw her looking behind him as if she was counting patrons. Without another word she began to grab bowls to fill, and he sighed and returned to his breakfast. As much as he wanted to see her, he also didn’t want to interfere. It was enough that she had met him with gentle teasing when she saw him, and he realized he could always come back later, or the next day. Slow and steady, that was his plan, and the very fact that she was enjoying speaking with him and returning his playfulness was enough for him.

He finished his breakfast and nodded farewell when he caught her eye, leaving a few extra coins beside his empty bowl before he left. His day was going to consist of helping the Commander train some of the new recruits, which would easily occupy all of his time. The Herald’s journey to the Hinterlands had spread word even further of the Inquisition, until soon it seemed the population within Haven was doubling. More refugees were seeking them out, more recruits eager to join up after seeing the small, young Herald of Andraste put herself between the ordinary folk and danger.

The stories they had brought with them of what had happened in the Hinterlands had impressed he and the Commander both, though when the Herald had given her report in the war council she had recounted little of the same. Instead she had emphasized the work of her companions, the work of the Inquisition as a whole, progress and facts but nothing about her own accomplishments.

Rylen had admired her humility, and it was clear the Commander had as well even if he would be the last to admit it - ever.

When Rylen reached the training grounds he looked over the new recruits, some still trying to adjust to the armor they’d been outfitted with, fidgeting under its bulk as they stood in formation. Cullen was already there, walking through the lines and correcting how some of them held their shields, how some armor was fastened incorrectly. He began shouting orders, telling them to pair up so that they could begin sparring as he watched.

Rylen stopped beside him, observing the training and occasionally yelling out corrections along with the Commander. They worked flawlessly together, having easily settled into the rhythm of their partnership since Kirkwall, when Starkhaven had sent aid to the city.

“No, plant your feet, lad, otherwise they’ll lay you flat,” Rylen barked at a recruit. “Maker, they’re all a bit wet behind the ears, aren’t they?”

“Just a bit,” Cullen sighed. He glanced around and then frowned, staring behind them, and Rylen turned to follow his gaze. The Herald was walking down the path to the training grounds, wearing her armor - the Commander’s dagger tied to her belt.

“Commander - Captain,” she greeted them both. “I was - I was hoping maybe you could show me a bit more - if you had the time, that is, Commander, I - I know you’re busy -”

“I - of course, Herald,” Cullen agreed immediately. “Captain, do you mind taking over for a while so that I may spar with the Herald?”

Rylen smirked knowingly and nodded, folding his arms as he took in the eager gleam in the Commander’s brown eyes. “Aye, take your time, Commander,” Rylen told him. “I’ll run the men through their paces, no need to rush your time _helping_ the Herald.”

Cullen scowled at him before he gestured for the Herald to lead the way to the training dummies further away from the recruits. The Herald almost seemed to blush slightly when she gave Rylen a brief nod, but she didn’t say anything and headed in the direction Cullen had gestured.

“Do you have to tease so much?” Cullen grumbled.

Rylen feigned shock and put a hand on his chest. “Tease? Who said I was teasing, Commander?” he quipped. “I meant it, take your time, I’ve got a handle on this. The Herald is far more important, after all.”

Cullen’s scowl only deepened as he shook his head, but a smirk seemed to be threatening to tug up the scarred corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Rylen,” he muttered, and turned to follow the Herald to the training dummies.

For a moment he watched as the Commander stopped close beside the Herald, speaking with her before he gestured to the training dummy they were facing. Chuckling to himself Rylen turned back to face the recruits, shouting a few more commands as soon as he noticed errors here and there.

“No, no, no,” he yelled when he saw one recruit flailing with their sword above their head, almost losing their grip on it. “It should be an extension of your arm, tighten your grip. Here.”

Rylen drew his own sword and stepped forward, and the recruits all stopped and backed up, creating a small circle so that they could observe. The recruit he had corrected faced him from where he stood in the middle of the circle and seemed to gulp, nervously shifting where he stood.

“Don’t worry, lad, this is how you learn,” Rylen assured him. “Now, tight grip on your shield, hold it yea high,” he demonstrated with his own shield, “and sword thusly.”

The recruit mirrored his actions, but beneath his helmet his eyes were still wide.

“Aye lad that’s better,” Rylen encouraged him. “Now, try to strike me, knock me off balance.”

For a moment the recruit paused as if he couldn’t imagine following those orders, and then he raised his sword and brought it down to Rylen’s shield with a loud cry. Rylen easily blocked the hit, smirking slightly to himself as he threw the recruit off of him.

It was an improvement from looking like he was flailing the sword over his head haphazardly, that much was certain. But there was still plenty of room for adjustment.

“Better,” Rylen told him. “Now, again, and this time put your back into it.”

The recruit tried again, making contact with Rylen’s shield, but again Rylen easily threw him off. Rylen straightened and shook his head, gesturing his shield.

“It’s a sword, not a hammer, lad -” he began, but his words were cut off as something collided with him and he lost his footing.

A tangle of arms and legs, the sound of metal clanging together as they made impact with the muddy snow-covered ground beneath them. His helmet was askew, his right side aching from how he had landed on the ground, and he noticed a sharp, throbbing pain in his left ankle. When they finally stopped skidding on the ground, he pushed at the recruit who had landed on top of him, trying to shove him off.

“Off - gerroff me, lad,” he gritted out, heaving harder until the recruit splayed in the snow beside him. Rylen yanked his helmet off his head, trying to sit up so that he could glare at the overeager and bumbling recruit.

When the recruit removed his helmet to reveal a familiar and young, boyish face, Rylen groaned and shook his head. It just had to be him.

“Bobert, wasn’t it?” he growled. The recruit’s head bobbed, his eyes wide as he took in the scowl Rylen was giving him. “Are you injured, lad?”

“N-no, Captain,” Bobert stuttered out. “I’m sorry - lost - lost my footing -”

“Aye, I hadn’t noticed,” Rylen mumbled.

“Captain! Are you all right?” the booming voice of the Commander rang out, and footsteps approached in the snow, the recruits moving aside to let him through.

“I’m fine,” Rylen muttered, but he took the Commander’s outstretched hand and let him pull him to his feet. When he tried to put pressure on his left leg he winced, flinching and lifting it slightly so that he wasn’t standing on it.

“You’re injured,” a softer voice said from his right, and he glanced down to see the Herald frowning at him. “Let me look at it, Captain -”

“No, no, my lady, I - I’m fine,” he hurried to insist. But he could tell his left leg was far from all right. It must have twisted as he tried to catch himself from falling, and now it was sending throbbing pain shooting up his leg when he tried to stand on it. He grimaced, but when he saw the Herald put her hands on her hips and frown at him he shook his head again and tried to smile. “Really, Herald, I - I am fine.”

She pursed her lips as if she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press any further. Cullen was glaring around at the recruits, barking at a few of them to get back to their sparring.

Rylen looked at where Bobert was pushing himself to his feet, trying to calm the rage and irritation coursing through him. But the overeager lad had rendered him possibly useless for a few days, since he wouldn’t be able to lead men into the hills on a bad leg - and the idea of the _Herald_ healing him was out of the question. She didn’t need to do that for him, of all people.

“Ten laps, Bobert,” Rylen growled at the recruit once he had regained his footing. “And carry your shield, you need to build your strength.”

Bobert hopped into a terrified salute and hurried off to follow orders, straightening his helmet as he ran in the direction of the lake. Cullen caught Rylen’s eye and quirked an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t say anything before he turned back to the Herald.

“Shall we continue, Herald?” he asked, gesturing back the way they had come.

“I - suppose, if the Captain is all right,” she agreed slowly, her pale eyes roaming over Rylen’s face as if to ascertain how he was feeling.

“I’m not a wee babe,” Rylen gritted out. “Go on, back to your sparring, you two.”

The Commander led the Herald back to the training dummies and Rylen turned back to the recruits to observe and correct their training. But he no longer paced along the rows, instead he leaned the bulk of his weight on his right leg, his arms folded as he barked orders as needed.

The whole day he spent trying to ignore the pain in his ankle, the bruises and aches he could feel on his right side. When he rubbed his face at one point drying blood came off on his glove, and he realized he must have scraped or cut his chin as well. Grumbling to himself he wiped at his chin harder to remove the dried blood, still determined to walk it off and ignore the lingering dull pangs from every spot that had collided with the ground.

When the sun began to set, he and the Commander dismissed the recruits, watching them file into Haven before they followed. Rylen could tell the Commander was giving him a sidelong glance, but he did his best to hide his limp and clenched his teeth to hide the way he wanted to wince with each step he took.

At least the Command Tent had chairs, and while they sat together to discuss troop plans and what their forces were doing in the Hinterlands he was able to let his leg rest. Hours passed as they worked, as they strategized and went through reports together.

There was a mild distraction in Cullen’s manner, and a few times Rylen found himself having to repeat his suggestions or information for the Commander. Each time it happened he did his best to stifle his laughter, smirking when the other man caught him and simply glared at him. He shrugged and went back to work, marveling at the normally stoic Commander pining after the young Herald so much.

It made him think about Abigail, and he glanced at the candles on the desk, noticing that they had almost burned down to the holders. “Perhaps we should call it, Cullen,” he suggested, throwing the reports he held onto the desk in front of him. “Get some rest, pick this up tomorrow.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in his chair so that he could frown at his Second. “Important plans?” he asked.

“No, unless you count taking a bath,” Rylen answered. “It’s late, mate. We can’t lead the men on a lack of sleep.”

“I - suppose you’re right,” Cullen agreed slowly.

Rylen frowned and sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. He flinched when he felt a bruise on his right elbow but simply shifted as he regarded the other man. “How have you been? Still having trouble sleeping?”

“On occasion,” Cullen sighed. “Better than it was, at first. But - the nightmares get worse.”

Rylen nodded thoughtfully. “And the headaches?”

“Persistent,” Cullen answered simply. “But bearable. Most of the time.”

“Aye, that’s - that’s better,” Rylen muttered.

“Do you - do you have plans to go off it, as well?” Cullen asked. “I know we discussed it before and you seemed - you sounded - determined.”

“You know as well as I do that I need to wait until this blasted mess is cleared up,” Rylen told him with a shrug. “One thing at a time. If we manage to save the whole world from going batty, well, maybe then.”

“And you want to wait and see if it’s possible,” Cullen quipped, a smirk tugging up his scarred lip.

“Oh, calling me a coward now?” Rylen accused, but he let out a few deep barks of laughter. “No, just - need to be in my right mind in case - well.”

Silence passed over them at the unspoken possibility, the agreement they had reached when they both accepted Seeker Pentaghast’s offer. The tension lifted quickly though, neither one of them wanting to linger on the thought of what might happen - they had too much they were already dealing with to focus on hypotheticals.

“Well, glad you’re doing all right,” Rylen finally said as he pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to head to the bathhouse, I’m sick of smelling worse than a mabari in a Fereldan tavern.”

Cullen snorted and shook his head. “Better than smelling like a Starkhaven whorehouse.”

Rylen stood and held his hands out to the side, chuckling. “Come on, mate, you can do better than that, surely,” he scoffed. “Try harder next time.”

“Sorry, I must be out of practice. After all, I don’t spend my free time down at the tavern exchanging quips with barmaids,” Cullen replied smoothly.

“No, you’re too busy staring at the Herald wondering how blasphemous it would be to see her out of those robes,” Rylen pointed out.

The Commander shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, and if Rylen wasn’t mistaken a flush began creeping up his cheeks. “I - I do not - that would be inappropriate -”

Rylen quirked an eyebrow as he watched the other man shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, and he wanted to say something, to tell him he’d been joking, or perhaps to ask - after all, he’d never known the Commander to be bashful. Perhaps something had happened, but the look on Cullen’s face silently forbade further discussion.

“Aye, whatever you say, Commander,” he finally agreed. “See you in the morning.”

“Right,” Cullen said, nodding dismissively as he pulled a report closer to him.

With a soft chuckle to himself Rylen left the Command tent, limping his way to his tent so that he could get everything he needed for his bath. He undid the fastenings on his armor quickly, hanging it on its stand as he removed each item. It was due for a cleaning, especially after the fall he had taken earlier that day, but he decided it could wait.

For now he just wanted to soak in a hot bath, hoping that would help dull the twinges of pain in his ankle. His soap and towel in hand, he crossed Haven as quickly as he could to the bathhouse, happy to find it mostly deserted once he reached it.

His mind wandered the whole time he prepared the hot water for his bath, and when he sank into the large tub he moaned, satisfied at the feeling of the heat on his aches and pains. Leaning his head back on the rim of the tub he lounged for a long time, simply soaking and hoping the heat would lessen his injury, even just a bit.

Perhaps tomorrow he would seek out some elfroot from Adan, since his pride hadn’t allowed him to accept the Herald’s offer of healing. But he hadn’t been willing to let the recruits see her tending to his ankle, injured by a young lad who had simply lunged too enthusiastically.

With an irritated groan he pushed up in the tub and began to wash himself with his rough bar of soap, trying to get all of the sweat and grime off. It was too late to go to the tavern, since it was likely closing soon, but tomorrow he could always break his fast there again, maybe see Abigail before he spent another day sparring with recruits

The thought made him smile as he finished bathing himself, and he exited the tub and dried himself before he dressed in the clean shirt and breeches he had brought along. He was tired yet restless, his mind still thinking through the day’s work and his eagerness to see Abigail before bed.

Tomorrow. Slow, and steady, just as he planned, he reminded himself.

He began limping his way through Haven once more, distracted by his thoughts, and he missed the sound of footsteps nearby.

“Are you - are you _limping_?”

He glanced up, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of Abigail standing in front of him on the path. She was frowning, her arms crossed in front of herself. She still wore that strange leather coat she had arrived in, though the black linen blouse and black leather breeches she was wearing must have been purchased from the merchants in the village. It was a good look for her, something about the sight of her in clothes native to Thedas stirring something within him.

“It’s - it’s nothing, lass, I’m fine,” he assured her when she continued to simply frown at him.

“It’s not nothing, you look like you can barely put weight on your leg,” she insisted. “What happened?”

“Just - training,” he grumbled. “Really, Abigail, I’m -”

“Say fine one more time,” she gritted out, and he stared at her for a moment, surprised at the low tone of her voice.

“Worried about me, lass?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“I - you should have someone look at it, that’s all,” she told him.

“No, really -”

“Don’t be such a -”

“Ass?”

“I was going to say _moron_ ,” she glared at him as she said it. “Fine, if you won’t go to a healer, at least let me look at it.”

“You?” he asked, his heart fluttering slightly at the thought. He didn’t know what to think, taken aback by the way she was so insistent that he seek out healing. His hope that he see her before bed was coming true, in better ways than he had imagined.

“I’m a mage, aren’t I?” she pointed out. “Come on, which way’s your tent? You can’t help the Inquisition limping around like that, fucking Christ.”

She continued grumbling under her breath as she stepped forward and grabbed his arm, pulling it across her shoulders to lend him her support to walk. His hand tightened on hers, enjoying the feeling of her cool fingers in his grasp as she wrapped her other arm around his waist. When she peered up at him expectantly he nodded and began to walk with her help, leading the way to his tent.

Once inside she released him beside his cot, gesturing for him to sit on the edge. She slid out of her jacket and threw it aside with her purse, pushing her sleeves up before she stepped before him.

“Take your boots off,” she instructed, kneeling in front of him and pushing her hair behind one ear. It had gotten a bit longer since she had arrived, but she still wore it down and loose, and he always found himself admiring the way she ran her hands through it when she was thinking, when she was working in the tavern.

He cleared his throat and worked to tug his boots off, throwing them near his armor stand where they landed with a thud. Suddenly glad that he had just been coming back from a bath, he watched as Abigail took his left foot in her hand and placed it on her thigh. He winced when she ran her fingers over the swollen ankle, and she glanced up at him.

“Uh-huh, didn’t need to see a healer,” she muttered. “You sprained it, I think. It’s really swollen. Do you - I can heal it, but don’t - I mean don’t Silence me or anything, please?”

“Why would I -” he began, frowning at the almost timid look on her face.

“I don’t know. You’re a Templar, for all I know you’re going to freak out if I use magic near you,” she told him with a shrug. “Do you want me to?”

“I don’t hate magic, lass,” he assured her. “And I trust you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Well, I’ll do my best,” she said, and she winked at him. “Here goes nothing.”

She closed her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as she ran her fingers along his ankle, concentrating hard. Soft green light emanated from her fingers, pulsing warm vibrations passing from her skin into his as she focused. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, a quiet moan escaping at the feeling of so much warmth and tenderness being channeled into him. Healing before hadn’t felt like this, hadn’t felt so - personal, intimate, hadn’t made him feel something similar to pleasure.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, and he opened his eyes again to see her frowning up at him.

“No, no, it - thank you, it feels better,” he hurried to reassure her. “Really, Abigail, I - I appreciate it.”

“It may still be a little stiff but I think I got it all healed up, otherwise,” she told him. “What - what happened?”

“Bobert, actually,” he answered, and they both laughed for a moment.

“Oh no, I’m - I’m so sorry,” she said through her giggles.

“Eh, it’s fine, these things happen,” he shrugged.

She was still kneeling in front of him, still absently trailing her fingers along his ankle. “Still, though, next time seek out a healer,” she chided him, her tone firm as she scowled up at him. “Injuries just get worse if you ignore them.”

“I - I’ve been injured before, lass,” he began to protest.

“Clearly,” she said, gesturing to the scars on his face. “But the Inquisition has healers, moron - use them next time.”

“I think I found a good healer,” he told her, and he noticed a slight flush on her cheeks when he smiled at her.

“I’m - I’m not experienced,” she denied with a shrug, and she finally released his ankle so that he could put his foot back on the ground.

“Well then you just need more experience,” he mused slowly. “I hit my knee, too, when I fell.”

She pursed her lips as she considered for a moment, but then she pointed to his left knee. He shook his head and she instead moved her fingers over his right knee, and he nodded. Abigail placed her hand on it, again focusing and channeling the delightfully warm magic into his aching knee. When he shifted and smiled she released him, sitting back on her heels again.

“Better?” she asked softly.

“Aye,” he answered.

With a nod Abigail stood, but she remained standing between his legs. She was so short she was barely taller than he was sitting down, and when their gazes met he realized he wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not when she kept looking at him like this, tender and gentle, full of concern that he had been injured.

“I - I hit here, too, lass,” he murmured. He pushed up his sleeve and held up his arm so that she could see the bruise on his elbow from where it had caught the brunt of his fall.

She pursed her lips and frowned, but she placed her cool fingers on the bruise. The pulsing warmth spread through him as the soft green light of her healing magic shone between them once more.

“My ribs, too. I landed funny,” he told her, and he reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

“R-Rylen -” she protested, and he smirked when he heard the way her voice wavered. But she caught sight of the bruises on his ribs and her concerned frown returned to her face. “You should be more careful,” she scolded, but she pressed her hand to the bruises, again channeling her healing magic into his wounds.

He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, but it wasn’t because he was in any pain. Instead he focused on the feeling of her hand resting on his side, so close to his heart. He wondered if she could feel the way it was racing desperately in response to her nearness, her gentle touch, responding to her tender magic and how it felt. Raising his gaze to hers, he noticed her lips parted slightly, her dark eyes searching his face with a tenderness that only made his heart beat faster.

“I - I cut my chin, too,” he breathed, tilting his face to show her while he held her gaze.

“Is there any bit of you that didn’t get injured?” she teased. But her voice was nearly breathless, strained, though she tried her best to sound angry. She cupped his jaw with her hand, her finger over the cut, and again she channeled her magic into the damage. “Does that - feel better?”

“Aye, lass, it does,” he answered. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her, resting them on her lower back as he pulled her even closer. She hadn’t released his face, hadn’t broken eye contact - instead she let him pull her against him.

“Ry,” she whispered, the nickname sounding natural coming from her, the name he hadn’t been called since the last time he’d seen his family. “I -”

There was a tenseness in her, as if she was cagey, ready to flee at any moment. And so he did nothing but hold her, letting his eyes search hers for any hint at her thoughts. He hadn’t expected to get this close to her, hadn’t expected that she would take care of him like this, that she would be so insistent that he let her, even. Now she was looking at him with such intensity that he almost never wanted the moment to end.

Or at least he thought he didn’t, until he noticed her step slightly closer, shifting on her feet, her thumb lightly caressing along his jawbone. Her hand slid from his cheek into his hair, and in an instant she moved, her lips pressing against his without hesitation. He tightened his hold on her, crushing her to him as he parted his lips and twisted his mouth across hers.

When her tongue tentatively touched his she moaned into his mouth, her fingers raking through his hair as she tried to pull him even closer, clinging to him desperately. He had thought about this more than he should admit, had dreamt of kissing her like this, and now she was here in his tent, in his arms.

And even better, she had kissed him first.

She lifted one knee and placed it beside his hip on the cot, and in one fluid movement she pulled herself into his lap, grinding her hips against his as she settled into his embrace. “Ry,” she breathed, pulling away from his kiss just long enough to gasp the nickname again before she caught his bottom lip with her teeth.

“Abigail, I want you,” he murmured, sliding his hands up her back, the fabric of her shirt bunching with the movement.

“Yes,” she answered like a hiss, and before he could fully register the word her lips were against his again, her tongue taking up an eager dance with his.

She tasted sweeter than any dream, her smaller figure fitting perfectly into his lap and his arms as if she was made to reside there. He began tugging at her shirt, working to pull it over her head to toss it aside before his hands moved to the laces of her breeches. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she let out a sob when he slipped his hand into the loosened waist so that he could search her out.

“Ry,” she panted again, “fuck - I want -”

“Aye,” he agreed with a chuckle, marveling at the heat, the wetness that met his fingers as he ran them along her slit. He managed to angle his hand in the confines of the leather and slid two fingers into her, eliciting a gasp and moan of approval as she threw her head back. For a moment he curled his fingers and stroked her inner walls, admiring the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way she clung to his shoulders more tightly.

But he was straining against his breeches, hard and desperate to feel her around his cock instead. With hardly any effort he lifted her and flipped them so that he could lay her on her back in his cot. He removed his fingers from her and instead reached for her boots, yanking them off so that he could pull her breeches down. While he worked to bare her lower half she propped herself on her elbows and reached behind her, working at some fastening on the strange black lace breastband she was wearing. She slid it off her shoulders and threw it aside at the same time he managed to remove her breeches, and he sat back to simply stare at her, enjoying the sight of her lying naked in his cot.

Her pale skin looked creamy in the light from the one candle he had left lit, and her dark eyes shimmered as she held his gaze. There was a grey tattoo of a rose on her shoulder, another that looked like script along her right forearm, and something about the sight of both excited him. Her breasts were smaller but still looked a tempting handful, rosy peaks hardened, adding to the evidence of arousal he could see between her slightly parted thighs.

“Abigail - you’re - the best damned sight I’ve seen,” he told her, and when she simply giggled at his words he smirked. His fingers flew to the laces of his breeches and he made short work of them, impatience nearly overwhelming him. She was smiling at him, raising her arms to wrap around his neck to pull him down to her, and for a moment he felt as if he was caught in a dream.

He pressed a searing kiss to her lips as he laid over her, and she spread her legs and wrapped one around his lower back. Propping himself on one elbow he let his other hand wander down her, caressing her soft, cool skin. His hands were rough, but she didn’t seem to mind the way his touch felt. Instead she arched into his caresses, whimpering when he squeezed one of her pert breasts.

Her hands were still twisting in his hair, holding him to her as she responded to his greedy kisses, panting for air every time he slanted his mouth to kiss her more deeply. One of her hands slid down his back to grip his hip as she shifted hers, rolling encouragingly against him. He released the breast he held and lifted his mouth from hers, taking a moment to relish the look on her face, the color high on her cheeks, her dark eyes wide pools of lust.

“Ry,” she breathed.

“Lass,” he murmured before he gave her a quick kiss. He used a hand to adjust her leg, spreading it wider before he took hold of himself, stroking a few times as he shifted above her. He guided his cock to her opening before he braced his hand on the cot by her hip and slowly slid within. A low moan accompanied the feeling of her stretching around him, enjoying the feel of her wet and tight as if made to fit him like a glove.

She gasped and threw her head back on the pillow, eyes shut and her lips parting as she continued to gasp for air. “Fuck,” she whispered, her fingers digging in where she held his hip, the leg she had wrapped around him tightening to pull him closer to her.

Burying his face against her throat he drank in her scent, simply enjoying the feel of her around him, the knowledge that he was buried deep inside her. With a moan of her name he began moving, slowly savoring the sensation of thrusting into her, listening to the soft cries she made every time he did.

Her feet braced beside his hips and she eagerly began to respond, rocking her hips and thrusting back against him to match his rhythm. Her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, clinging to him as if to steady herself as she answered his movements. He could feel her fluttering around him, and he marveled at the way she continued to arch against him, kissing his shoulder or neck every time either got close to her mouth.

“Ry, I - god you feel -” she said, a moan interrupting her words. “You feel so good.”

In response he jerked his hips harder, shifting above her to get better leverage for his thrusts. She was crying out more desperately with each movement, still working intently to match his passion.

The cot groaned and lurched, one corner giving out suddenly so that they both slid to the floor. Abigail gasped and clung more tightly to his shoulders, and he caught them both with an arm to stop them tumbling too far. They were awkwardly splayed, half on the cot, half on the floor, and Rylen quickly pushed himself up so that he wasn’t crushing her under his weight.

“Lass - are you all right?” he began, frowning as he searched her face for signs of pain or injury.

But she whimpered and nodded rapidly, her hands gripping his hips almost desperately. “I - I was almost there. I was about to come, please - fuck, don’t stop,” she begged. She rolled her hips against his again to encourage him, her gaze meeting his imploringly.

With an incredulous laugh he slid an arm under her to scoot her up slightly, bracing his knees better on the ground on either side of her hips so that he could resume. When he began moving again she cried out his name and responded eagerly, dragging her nails down his back until he was certain he’d have lingering scratches.

He licked one of his thumbs and slipped it between them, using it to rub and swirl around her pearl, noticing the way she instantly tightened her legs around his hips with a moan.

“Yes - Ry - Ry - please -” she called out, and a loud cry was pulled from her throat as she fell apart. Her back arched, her hips jerking against his desperately, and he simply watched in awe at the beautiful sight she posed as she lost herself beneath him.

He increased his pace as she slowly stilled, and it wasn’t long before he followed her over the edge, groaning her name before he captured the skin of her neck with his mouth. Sucking and kissing it as he thrust deep within her, his whole body shuddered as he found his release, his mind a blank slate, only aware of her and pleasure. He collapsed on top of her when he was spent, finally removing his lips from her throat, vaguely wondering if she would be angry at the lovebite he had left on her pale skin.

They were both breathing heavily as they clung to one another, neither of them making a move or acting like they wanted to separate. She was dragging her fingers up and down his back, lightly caressing his skin as she seemingly tried to come back to her senses. After several minutes he nuzzled his face against her throat and pressed a kiss to her skin before he began to push himself up.

When he caught her eye she smiled at him, but there was the slightest hint of a frown quirking her brows, as if she was confused. “Are you certain you’re all right, lass?” he asked, turning his gaze to the casually destroyed cot.

“I - I am,” she answered softly. She giggled and also looked to the side. “I’m so sorry about your cot, I -”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I can fix it, it just - wasn’t worth doing in the moment.”

She continued laughing, brushing her sweat-dampened hair off her forehead as she stared up at him. Her cheeks were still flushed, dewy, her pink lips almost swollen from the intensity with which he had kissed her. The sight of her laying there, still recovering from pleasure he had given her, a small smile of contentment tugging up the corners of her mouth, set his soul ablaze. He leaned back over her and pressed a kiss to her lips, tugging first her top and then her bottom lip between his as he tried to drink her in.

When he pulled away her frown was even more pronounced, and after a moment she shifted and began to try to sit up. He sat back on his heels and took a moment before he pushed himself to his feet, stretching lightly before he bent over the broken cot. The wooden leg that supported the corner had given out, but hadn’t broken, and he silently thanked the Maker for that small miracle.

Kneeling beside it, he began to try to fix the collapsed side quickly. It only needed to hold for the night, he could repair it fully tomorrow when he had the time. For now, he simply needed it to be sturdy, because all he could think about was curling her into his arms to sleep.

When he finished and had tested it for sturdiness he glanced behind him, and immediately his stomach clenched at the sight of her shaking out her breeches to pull on.

“L-lass, are you - are you leaving?” he asked, standing to close the distance between them. He gently placed his hand on hers, lowering the breeches between them.

“I - should get going, I -” she stuttered out, avoiding his gaze.

“You should stay,” he murmured, placing a knuckle beneath her chin to tilt her face up.

Her eyes were wide, almost disbelieving as they moved over his face. “I shouldn’t,” she muttered.

“Why not?” he frowned as he asked it. “Stay, Abigail. I want to hold you while we sleep, I want to feel you in my arms. Lass, I - I’ve wanted this. Please - stay.”

Abigail caught her bottom lip between her teeth, hesitating as she chewed it and let her gaze roam over his face. “All right,” she finally agreed. “If you’re sure that cot is sturdy enough.”

“Aye, it’ll be fine,” he assured her with a smirk. “Come here, lass.”

He sat back on the cot and took her with him, lying on his back and pulling her over him so that her head was resting on his shoulder. They shifted and took a few moments to settle, but she snuggled into his chest, lying on top of him with her arms and legs hugging tightly to his sides. She was so small compared to him he hardly noticed her size, instead he savored the warmth and slight weight of her atop him, his arms wrapped around her to keep her against his hot skin.

“I - thank you for healing me, lass,” he muttered. He wanted to say more, he wanted to tell her how much it all meant to him, how much he had longed for this, for how long. But he simply pressed a kiss to the top of her head instead and kept his arms around her.

“You’re welcome,” she breathed after a moment. “I was - glad to.”

“Good night, Abigail,” he murmured.

“Night, Ry,” she whispered.

They fell silent and for a long time he simply held her to him, stroking her hair and occasionally pressing kisses to the top of her head. Gradually he slid into slumber, lulled by the feeling of her resting on him, of the heat of her skin, the slow breaths she was taking as she drifted off herself.

It was deep slumber, peaceful and perfect, enough for him to forget anything going on in Thedas, anything they were facing. His dreams in the Fade were pleasant, fleeting and easily forgotten, but that was better than anxious worries, terrible nightmares.

When the sun warmed the walls of his tent and shone bright enough to pull him from his sleep he grumbled and slowly opened his eyes. It took him a few moments to come back to his senses, to fully reach awareness and take in his surroundings. It took him a few moments longer to understand why he felt so strange, for the memories to come rushing back.

He propped himself on his elbows as he looked around, but his first realizations had been correct, and his heart sank as his stomach plummeted and twisted uncomfortably.

Abigail was gone, nowhere in sight. Every article of clothing, every trace of her had disappeared from the tent, and for a moment he almost wondered if he had dreamt what had happened between them.

But the smell of her, spicy vanilla, musk, that woody deep scent he could never quite place, clung to the sheets of his cot, stirred up with each of his movements. She had been there, in his arms, sleeping - he had taken her, moving between her thighs until she was nearly screaming his name with her release.

And yet she had still fled before the sun, and he frowned as he thought about it, wondering if he had pushed too far, if he had frightened her off.

The idea that he had wronged her in any way tore at him, and he dragged his hand down the lower half of his face as he thought. She was too wonderful, too amazing to let go, and he realized he would do anything to make certain she was all right, and happy.

With a reluctant groan he swung his legs over the side of the cot, determining to find a way to make her see - to make her understand - that for him it had meant more than a single night of simple pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also have some art!
> 
> Abigail and Rylen as done by the lovely [Machatnoir](http://machatnoir.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  


	11. We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do

“Where the fuck is my fucking - damn it,” Abby muttered to herself, stopping on the snowy path to fumble in her purse again. It only took her a moment to feel like a complete idiot when she remembered she had magic. “Fucking Christ,” she sighed, holding up a finger to light the cigarette perched between her lips.

She’d been rationing the pack of cigarettes that had made the journey to Thedas with her, but now was definitely the right moment for one - in fact, right now was almost the perfect moment to start smoking two at once.

The sun hadn’t fully risen, but she’d awoken because she had been too warm, sweaty against hot, naked skin. As soon as she’d realized where she was she’d carefully pried herself out of his arms to slip away.

She felt like the worst person in the world, sneaking out before he woke up, not even leaving a note, any sort of hint. What would she have said though?

_Thanks, I needed that?_

_That was fun?_

_Listen, this was great but I’m - confused? Scared? Undeserving?_

_An absolute fucking disaster you should definitely stay away from?_

She mentally shook herself and took a deep drag from her cigarette, holding the smoke in for a moment before she blew it through her lips in white, billowing tendrils that curled before her in the cold air. The feeling of nicotine settled in her until she almost felt like she was tingling, heavy-limbed. Slightly more relaxed.

Yet somehow still restless and shaking.

Fuck.

Honestly she was conflicted, uncertain how to feel. She didn’t regret falling into bed with him nearly as much as she regretted leaving, and that only made her hate herself more. He hadn’t deserved that, at all. He’d simply been there, holding her to him after she’d healed him, the scent of sandalwood invading her senses while he stared up at her so tenderly.

Tender, like he cared.

Not hungry, like John had always looked at her.

At the thought of John she groaned and shook her head again, taking another desperate drag from her cigarette. He wasn’t the last person who had been between her legs now, at least, but she couldn’t feel any sort of joy from that.

Not because she missed him, but because she vaguely hoped that she hadn’t used Rylen simply to erase John. When she thought back to the moment when she had first kissed Rylen, though, she realized that was the farthest thing from the truth.

She had wanted him - because he was him.

And that alone was somehow more terrifying and more awful than if she had been using him to simply forget about her almost ex-husband.

Her cigarette burned down to the filter and she took one final, deep drag, the lit tip hot on her fingers until she shook her hand out and finally dropped it.

The tavern would be opening soon, but she had something she needed to do first - if she could. Fuck, this was something she didn’t know anything about, here, and she tried not to think too hard about how she wouldn’t have to worry if she’d still had her IUD in.

But she’d gotten it out while she and John were fighting, wondering if maybe, just maybe…

_Nope, not thinking about that either._

Running her hand through her hair she exhaled slowly and then walked to the door of the cabin she shared with the Herald.

Had Evelyn noticed she was gone? Hopefully she hadn’t worried, hopefully she had just gone to sleep, thinking Abby was working at the tavern late like she had the last few nights. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed she hadn’t come back at all. Then again it might be best if she had wondered, because it would make asking the favor she needed easier, if Evelyn already happened to be suspicious.

But she seemed far too naive and innocent to even speculate the truth about where Abby had been all night. If she told her, what would she say about her falling into bed so easily with the Captain? Would she be scandalized, scold her, judge her? Or would she simply blush and giggle, possibly ask what it was like or how it happened?

After all, if she was truly Abby’s Inquisitor, the way she had imagined - she hadn’t ever kissed anyone, let alone fallen into bed with them as easily as Abby had with Rylen.

This was going to be awkward.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit cabin, somehow relieved that Evelyn was simply asleep in her bed. Her long black hair was spread across the pillow behind her, her marked left hand resting on the pillow beside her head.

For a moment Abby stopped and simply stared, realizing the absurdity of the situation - waking up the Herald of Andraste, a twenty year-old virgin, to help her figure out birth control in Thedas.

_What the fuck is happening to my life._

Tentatively she walked forward, not letting herself second-guess. She had no one else to ask, after all, and it was kind of important. Putting her hand on Evelyn’s shoulder she gently shook her, and immediately the young woman’s lightning eyes flew open and she pushed onto her elbow, looking around wildly.

“S-sorry, sorry,” Abby hurried to say. “I just - Evelyn, I need - I need - um -”

“Everything all right, Abby?” Evelyn asked, wiping at one eye with her thin fingers, frowning as she peered up at Abby bent over her bed. “You look - what’s that on your neck? Did something happen?”

_My neck?_

_Fuck._

_That ass._

Abby pulled her hair over her neck, remembering the way Rylen had latched onto it so desperately as he came, realizing she had to have a dark mark from his attentions. So much for easing into the conversation to make her request.

“I - I need your help before I go to the tavern this morning,” Abby began with a sigh. “Is there - some kind of contraceptive - um, to prevent - babies? After - _after_ sex? I don’t - I don’t know, I - didn’t think about it, until - after.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead, but it was to her credit that she tried to keep the surprise she must have been feeling from being too apparent. “I - yes, there’s witherstalk sap,” Evelyn answered slowly. “I don’t have any, I’ve never - I don’t - um, Adan may have some, though.”

Abby groaned slightly, hating the idea of having to seek out the grouchy alchemist, especially since they hadn’t met yet. “Do you think - could you - get it for me? Or go with me? I wouldn’t know what to look for, and it’s early, he may not even be in the alchemist’s cabin,” Abby said.

“Of course I can - give me a moment, let me grab my robe,” Evelyn pushed herself out of bed and quickly stood. She pulled her leather slippers onto her feet and fetched her wool robe from the trunk at the foot of her bed, wrapping it tightly before she tied the cloth belt around her small waist.

Abby led the way out of the cabin, her heart racing as she looked up and down the paths. There was a solution, just - hopefully it worked for her, and - Christ - hopefully she wasn’t allergic to it. She and Evelyn walked side by side through the village, only the sound of early morning greeting the crunch of their footsteps on the path. Hardly anyone was awake, but in the distance she could tell the forces of the Inquisition were beginning to stir and prepare for the day.

Her stomach lurched when she thought again about Rylen waking up alone, and she suddenly realized - he likely wasn’t one to ignore things. She found herself wondering if he was going to come by the tavern for breakfast to see why she had left.

One thing at a time - she could worry about that when she got to it.

They reached the alchemist’s cabin, but no lamps seemed to be lit. Evelyn hummed for a second before she tried the door, and luckily found it unlocked. “Oh good,” she murmured, and she gestured for Abby to follow her inside.

“I - do we need to make something, or does he have some prepared?” Abby asked as she followed Evelyn into the cabin.

“I’m not certain, like I said, I - um,” Evelyn gave her a furtive glance and blushed as she trailed off, waving her hand to light the candles in the room with her magic.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about not - I mean, how do you think I feel having to ask you for help like this?” Abby tried to reassure her.

“You were - I mean, it was something you wanted, right?” Evelyn asked, frowning as she glanced up from the small vials she had begun looking through.

“Yes! Yeah, I mean - I started it, it wasn’t - don’t worry,” Abby answered, emphatically waving a hand as she said it. “I’m just - normally I would have been more careful, I sort of just got - carried away.”

“Do you - can I ask - never mind,” Evelyn muttered. “It’s not my business. So long as it was something you wanted, that’s all that matters. And don’t worry, witherstalk will work if I can just - hm.”

“What’s wrong?” Abby stepped forward, looking over the vials Evelyn had been picking up and inspecting.

“There isn’t any here, but,” Evelyn sighed and turned to a small chest resting on the table. “If he has the herbs I can make it. I know the theory, and he has his tome here, it won’t be difficult.”

Abby sat on the stool beside the wooden table Evelyn was standing before. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Well, once I find - ah, there it is,” Evelyn pulled out a small pouch and peeked inside with a smile. “I’ll show you how to make it, that way - next time -”

“If there is a next time,” Abby muttered.

“You don’t think there will be?” Evelyn asked, but then she blushed again and shook her head. “It’s best to be prepared, how about that? After all, you’re new to this land, you need to know these things. It’s common knowledge here.”

“Was this how people spent their time in the Circle?” Abby mused, giggling slightly.

“Some people,” Evelyn answered.

“Not you?”

“I - I never found anyone - I wasn’t interested enough, while I was there,” Evelyn said quietly. “Don’t worry, though, I know how to make this. I’m not going to mess up, I’m sure - I mean, I don’t want you to worry that you could - end up with child, still.”

“I trust you,” Abby assured her.

“Who - never mind,” Evelyn murmured, flushing even more deeply. It was clear her curiosity was getting the better of her, and Abby found herself torn between telling her and never telling a soul.

And so she ignored the start of the question entirely.

“Here, this is what witherstalk looks like, and you want to be certain to get fresh witherstalk, not dried, since you need the sap,” Evelyn said, holding out the few leaves of witherstalk she held. “And then, here, get a small knife and -”

The door swung open and they both looked up, Abby feeling slightly guiltier than the situation probably warranted. At least, she didn’t think it was until she saw who was standing in the door.

“Herald! I - is everything all right?” the Commander asked, pausing in the doorway and taking in the sight of the pair huddled over a table together.

“Fine! Everything - everything is fine, Commander,” Evelyn stuttered. Abby was surprised to see the color that rushed to Evelyn’s cheeks as she tried to set the witherstalk down, as if trying to hide what she had been holding.

Cullen frowned and stepped into the cabin, looking at both of them and then around the cabin. “I was - is Adan here?”

“N-no, not yet,” Evelyn answered. “Is there - I mean, I could get you something, or -”

“No, Herald, please, you do not need to,” Cullen insisted, but then he frowned at Abby. “Is something the matter?”

“Nope, everything’s fine,” Abby told him, perhaps too quickly because his frown only deepened.

“Are you certain?” he asked, one eyebrow quirking higher on his forehead as he walked forward a few more steps. His gaze finally roamed over the table they were huddled around, and when he caught sight of the witherstalk in front of Evelyn something changed in his demeanor. “I - um -”

Evelyn pushed the leaves away from her instinctively, pressing her lips together. “It’s - um, I was just -”

“No, please, Herald, you do not need to explain yourself to me,” Cullen muttered, but he frowned as if pained. “Your affairs are your own.”

The way Evelyn’s expression fell tugged at something inside Abby, and she glanced between the pair, realizing what they were both thinking.

_Fucking Christ, what idiots._

“It’s for me, Commander,” Abby said, heaving a deep sigh. “She’s showing me how to make witherstalk because I fucked your Captain last night and wasn’t exactly careful about it.”

The silence that greeted her words was more deafening and awkward than the tension that had been present in the cabin when Cullen had thought it was for Evelyn. It made Abby cringe, shifting on her feet as she realized perhaps she should have used a different choice of words.

“I - I see,” Cullen finally commented. “Um, well - I -”

“Oh my god it’s just sex,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. “Surely even _you_ , Commander -”

“Of course, I just - did not expect - well,” Cullen cleared his throat and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I will let you get back to it, I just - came to find some elfroot.”

“I haven’t seen you blush this much since I had to tell you what the tampon I had in my purse was for,” Abby teased, trying to break up the tension.

Instead Cullen only flushed, and he turned a scowl to her. “You promised we would never speak of that again,” he accused.

Abby simply shrugged and laughed, remembering the way he had quickly dropped it after she graphically described its purpose. She remembered how he had looked away, how instead Cassandra had picked it up with a curious, appraising frown.

 _“We will never speak of this,”_ _Cullen had insisted when the women had simply teased and rolled their eyes at him._

_“Moon cycles are only natural, Commander,” Leliana had quipped._

_“That does not mean I need to know what that device is,” Cullen had muttered. “Maker’s breath, just ask her about the Breach again.”_

“A - what?” Evelyn asked, looking between the pair.

“Remember when I asked you about my - you know, time of the month, how you handle it here?” Abby said.

“Oh, yes,” Evelyn agreed, nodding readily. “That’s right, I remember now, you told me about how you use pieces of cotton to -”

“Maker’s breath, Miss - Abby, please,” Cullen interjected. “Can’t you at least wait for me to leave the room?”

“Sorry,” Abby shrugged. But secretly she was happy that he was no longer staring at Evelyn, thinking that she had been with someone else. “You’re the one who walked in and started asking us what we were up to.”

“I was merely - I did not -” he began to protest, and he glared at Abby for a moment before he shook his head. “I simply needed an elfroot potion, I did not expect anyone else to be in here this early, that is all.”

“Oh, Cull - Commander, let me get one for you,” Evelyn exclaimed, and she hurried back to the vials she had been looking through earlier. “Here, this is elfroot, do you need anything else? I can make you a -”

“No, thank you, Herald,” he muttered as he accepted the vial she was holding out to him.

Evelyn granted him a wide smile, tucking her hair behind her ear as she watched him uncork the vial and drain its contents. “I - I’ll see you at the war council later, yes? To discuss our plans for - for the clerics?”

“Yes, of course, Herald,” the Commander hurried to assure her. “The - the Captain and I,” he glanced at Abby as he said it, “have gone over the reports our scouts have sent about Val Royeaux and I will be able to brief you about them then.”

“Excellent,” Evelyn agreed, bobbing her head. “I - I look forward to hearing it.”

They both fell silent, but stood facing each other, not avoiding one another’s gaze but not looking at the other, either. And neither of them seemed to want to be the first to move away.

Normally, Abby would have made a quiet exit, given them time to speak alone, time to continue staring longingly _near_ one another. But she glanced down at the witherstalk leaves lying on the table beside her hand and her stomach felt as if it did somersaults.

Was there a time limit?

Surely there had to be, considering everything she knew about biology. But she knew nothing about witherstalk, not really, and so she tapped her fingers on the table before she gently cleared her throat.

One would have thought she had screamed or slammed something from the way the pair jumped, and Evelyn blushed and turned wide, pale eyes to Abby. “Ex-excuse me, Commander, I was - I need to, um -”

“Right, yes,” Cullen agreed, clearing his own throat and stepping back. “Thank you for the elfroot, and good - I mean, um -” he trailed off and glanced quickly at Abby before he returned his gaze to Evelyn’s. “I will see you at the war council, Herald. Until then. Abby.”

He nodded curtly to each of them before he turned on his heel and marched out of the cabin without another word. For a moment Evelyn simply stared after him, but when Abby took a few steps around the table the Herald seemed to remember herself.

“Sorry, about that, I - um,” Evelyn hurried back around the table and shuffled the leaves of witherstalk. “I hope you’re not embarrassed, I mean - he didn’t seem like he minded, and I - I suppose he would have said something, if he -”

“Evelyn,” Abby interrupted the younger woman’s rambling.

Evelyn glanced up at her, sheepish and blushing. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t think he of all people - I didn’t know what to say, and - I’m sorry you had to tell him -”

Abby shrugged. “It’s fine, I’m not - it’s not like I’m ashamed,” she told her with a laugh.

“I couldn’t tell, I mean - you acted like you didn’t want to tell anyone, didn’t want to tell - me,” Evelyn murmured, keeping her gaze averted.

“It’s not shame, more like -” Abby paused for a moment, at a loss to describe the feeling even in her own mind. But she remembered how he had looked above her, how he had felt moving within her, the way he had kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. All she could think was that she had wanted to keep it all to herself. “More like I just - wanted to keep it as something just for me.”

“Oh, I - that makes sense, I mean after all if you care for him a great deal -” Evelyn mused, but Abby balked and began to shake her head.

“What? No - I - I just - didn’t feel like telling everyone who I sleep with, that’s all,” Abby hurried to deny.

Evelyn hummed noncommittally, picking up the small knife and turning a leaf over in her hand. “Well, I’m sure the Commander will be discreet,” she said. “After all, you were right, he never did mention that he saw - that he caught sight of - well, me.”

Abby smirked and stepped closer to observe the way Evelyn was inspecting the leaf she held. “And it seems he didn’t stop speaking to you,” she pointed out quietly.

“No, in fact he even took the time to show me how to use the dagger he gave me more effectively,” Evelyn told her. She gave Abby a sidelong glance and a small smile. “I was happy that it - didn’t ruin our friendship.”

“Mmm, yes, friendship,” Abby agreed with mock solemnity, and she giggled when Evelyn flushed.

“Do you want to learn how to make witherstalk or not? I swear you’re just as bad as Varric,” Evelyn chided her.

“All right, I’m sorry,” Abby assured her through her laughter. “Please, Herald, show me Thedas’ baby-proofing ways.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes but giggled softly before she began to explain how to harvest witherstalk sap. It was simple enough, and after she had prepared a vial of the concoction for Abby, she made her make a second to show that she understood how it was done.

“This is as easy as making drinks,” Abby commented as she corked the vial she had made. She lifted the one Evelyn had made to her lips and quickly downed the thick chartreuse liquid. Her nose scrunched as the bitter taste hit her tongue, nearly gagging at the way it felt almost slimy sliding down her throat. “Oh god that’s disgusting,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her lips.

Evelyn shrugged. “But at least it’s effective,” she said. “And now you have a second and can make it yourself, when you need it. I’ll make certain the Inquisition has a solid witherstalk supply, after all -”

“What? No, not just because of me -” Abby began to protest, hating that the Herald would go out of her way to secure witherstalk just because Abby hadn’t been careful.

“No, not simply because of you,” Evelyn waved a hand dismissively. “Men and women in this close of quarters, the possible end of the world looming - I remember what it was like at the Circle. Living that close together, no other release from the stress - these things happen.”

Abby frowned at Evelyn, slightly taken aback by the matter-of-fact tone she was using to speak about such things. “What, am I not the first one you’ve helped out of a tough spot of bad decision-making?”

Evelyn merely shrugged and pulled the collar of her robe more tightly around her neck. “Just because I didn’t find anyone while I was at the Circle didn’t mean I was - ignorant or oblivious to what was going on around me,” she pointed out. A soft frown crossed her face and she considered Abby for a moment. “Bad decision-making? You - you still sound so - regretful, about what happened. Did you and the Captain - I mean to say, do you not find him attractive, or - like him?”

Abby sighed and shook her head. “It’s complicated, I just - I shouldn’t have,” she muttered. “I’m too impulsive, I just - I - he’s going to hate me, now.”

“Why would he hate you?” Evelyn asked, her frown deepening.

“I left,” Abby answered with a shrug. “Didn’t say anything, ran out like a coward, I - it was a mistake, I - I’m just a disaster. I shouldn’t have done it, he doesn’t - I don’t deserve someone like him.”

Evelyn hummed slightly and raised her eyebrows. “I think perhaps you’re too hard on yourself,” she mused. “After all, you’ve been nothing but kind and caring since you got here -”

“I’m a fuck-up, Evelyn,” Abby interrupted, her tone harsh. “I broke up an almost two decade marriage with my own selfishness. My husband finding another mistress was my karma - er, my comeuppance. And all I do is drink to forget so I don’t have to face my mistakes head-on - someone like me doesn’t deserve happiness or a good man like the Captain, even just for a night. End of story.”

Evelyn stared at her for a moment, and again Abby felt slightly unnerved by her pale eyes, feeling as if they could see down to her very soul. “If you say so,” Evelyn finally murmured. “Well, you probably have things to do, and I need to get ready for the day’s duties.”

With a bow of her head Evelyn crossed the cabin and opened the door, leaving without a second glance. Abby arched her neck and groaned, hating herself even more. She wanted to go curl up in bed, pull the sheets over her head and hide from everything, everyone, and pretend none of this was happening to her.

But instead, she put herself to work. When she reached the tavern she muttered a hasty apology to Flissa for being a few minutes late and simply threw aside her jacket and pushed up her sleeves.

“Abby,” Flissa murmured from next to her. “Here, put your collar up -”

“Fuck,” Abby hissed, brushing away Flissa’s helping hand to tug the low collar of her shirt up to hide the hickey.

“Everything all right?” the other woman asked in a whisper as recruits began to file into the tavern in search of breakfast.

“Fine, everything’s fine,” Abby muttered, and she hurried to the other end of the bar to greet their patrons.

For a while she lost herself in the bustle of work, nearly forgetting her sour mood as she served bowls of breakfast to the members of the Inquisition. It was pleasant, not thinking about it, just focusing on work and moving from one moment to the next.

“Lass -”

“Go away,” she hissed, turning to face him across the bar. She hadn’t seen him come in, but she really wasn’t surprised to hear his voice, to see him standing there frowning at her. “Unless you’re here for breakfast -”

“Just one moment, please, Abigail -” he implored her.

“I’m working,” she gritted out.

“I’ll take just a moment of your time -”

“I don’t have a moment to spare, if you hadn’t noticed I’m busy,” she snapped.

“Lass, please,” he repeated, and he reached across the bar to grab her wrist to prevent her walking away. Something looked pained in his eyes, but she couldn’t tell what. He almost looked - sorry.

And that made everything worse.

“N-not while I’m at work,” she finally stuttered out. “We’re swamped, Rylen, I - I have to work.”

He considered for a moment and then nodded as he released her wrist. “After you’re done here, tonight?” he asked.

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment and then sighed. “Sure, tonight,” she agreed. “After I’m done with work.”

“Thank you, Abigail.” Rylen bowed his head in farewell, turning to leave the tavern as he pulled his helmet on. Abby stared after him for a moment before she shook herself and set back to work.

The day passed in a blur, the work of running the tavern with Flissa acting as a welcome distraction to her muddled thoughts. Whenever there was a moment of downtime, her mind seemed intent on conjuring the feeling of Rylen moving within her, the memory of the taste of him as he kissed her.

The pain in his eyes when he’d seen her that morning.

In those moments she shook herself and found another task, no matter how small, to bury herself in so she could forget. By the time they were closing the tavern together she was exhausted, physically and mentally from trying to avoid thoughts of him all day.

When they had finished cleaning the tankards and wiping down the bar and tables, she and Flissa sighed and said farewell, both heading to seek rest so that they could just repeat the same thing tomorrow. As she slipped out of the tavern she began to wonder if he’d forgotten, or decided she wasn’t worth it. Perhaps Cullen had said something to him, perhaps he had simply changed his mind and wouldn’t seek her out.

The thoughts didn’t bring as much relief or assurance as she hoped they would.

She closed the door behind her and quickly turned down the path, intent on slipping back to her cabin. But footsteps crunching in the snow nearby made her groan and hang her head.

Wishful thinking, that had been.

“Done for the night, lass?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “So, you wanted to talk?”

Abby turned to face him, folding her arms across her chest as she watched him stop in front of her. She tried not to take too much pride in the fact that he wasn’t limping, tried not to think about where her healing had led them.

“Aye, but not out in the open, in the cold,” he answered with a smile. “Come along, Abigail.”

For a moment she considered not following him, insisting that he say what he had to say, here where they were. But she didn’t have time to even begin to suggest it, because he was already continuing along the path, clearly expecting her to just follow his lead.

With an exasperated sigh she trudged through the snow behind him, not surprised at all when he led her to his tent.

“Listen, if you think -” she began, but he chuckled and shook his hair out after he removed his helmet.

“I have something to say to you, that’s all,” he told her. The sheepish attitude he had had that morning in the tavern was slowly returning, and he shot her furtive glances as he began to hang the pieces of his armor on the stand in his tent.

“Then say it,” she muttered with a shrug, forcing her eyes away from the sight of him stripping down to his shirt and breeches. Her eyes were inexorably drawn to his cot in the corner, and she couldn’t help but notice that the wooden post that had given out seemed to have been reinforced with another.

“Did I wrong you last night, lass?” he asked, and the tender, hesitant tone of his voice tugged at the guilt that had weighed heavily on her all day.

“What?” she said, stepping slightly closer. “I - no, no, what made you think - I -”

“The way you acted like you should leave, and you were gone this morning. I thought - perhaps I had pushed too far, that you hadn’t wanted to, that you hadn’t wanted - me,” he answered. His tone was quiet, and again she thought something in his eyes looked pained.

_I did this, I made him look like a sad, hurt puppy, worrying that he - took advantage, or hurt me._

_Fuck, I really am a disaster._

“No, that’s not - that’s not why I left,” she hurried to assure him. Her feet carried her forward a few more steps almost against her will, her body responding to his nearness, needing to be closer to prove the truth of her words. “You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t - I kissed you first, remember?”

“Aye, I do,” he said, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a hint of a smile. “I just thought, maybe, you regretted - that you didn’t really want to, or maybe just not with _me_ specifically -”

“I - god damn it, what do you want to hear from me, hm?” Abby interrupted, throwing a hand up as she said it. “That I’d thought about you before last night, that I’d thought about _it_ before? That being that close to you - that I couldn’t resist? Fine, okay? I’d - I’d thought about you, a - a lot. And I wanted you. Is that what you needed to hear?”

“Aye, it would have been nice to hear that instead of waking up alone,” he countered heatedly. “It would have been nice not to wonder all day if you felt like I’d forced you, or made you make a mistake.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, I’m perfectly capable of fucking up on my own, thank you,” Abby quipped. “Jesus, is that - you’ve been walking around all day thinking I thought you - I just left, that’s what you do after a one night stand. You do the walk of shame.”

“The walk of - what, lass?” Rylen repeated, scowling down at her. They had closed the distance until they were standing barely a foot apart, hands on their hips as they simply stared at one another. “So it wasn't a mistake, you don't regret it - but you're ashamed? And one night - was that all it was to you?”

“I - I mean,” Abby tripped over her words, surprised by his question. “Wasn't that all it was?”

“Not for me,” he told her. “I - I thought you felt the same.”

“I -” she trailed off, burying the voice in her head that wanted to immediately say _yes, I think maybe I do._

_People like me don’t deserve happiness._

_People like me don’t deserve people like him._

He was still frowning at her, but it wasn’t anger so much as it was a challenge, a dare. “You what, lass?” he prompted her. “Were you just looking for a bit of fun, someone to keep you warm for the night? Did I misunderstand that soft look in your eye when you whispered my name while I was inside you?”

The memory made her cheeks heat, and her heart started racing as she let her eyes wander over him. She felt something, that much was certain. But her mind was fighting it, telling her that it was too soon, that she barely knew him, that she wasn’t worthy of his kindness or care.

But she also didn’t want to stay away from him. She felt drawn to him, but not like she had been drawn to John, like being drawn to fire.

This was - different, even if she couldn’t pin down how it was or what exactly she was feeling.

“I - I already told you I wanted you,” she answered. “Do I need to spell it out, or something?”

“I don’t know, Abigail, you’ve been sending me mixed signals, I’m not certain what to think,” he muttered. “You rebuff me, and then you kiss me, fall into bed with me, and then you run off - I don’t quite know what to make of it. I’m more direct than this, I don’t do well with blasted games.”

Abby pursed her lips, staring up at him as she thought. The idea that it could be more than one night…

After all, it had been one of the best nights of her life, if she was honest with herself. Where was the harm in seeing what happened?

No one was saying they had to get married right away or anything…

She stepped forward and tugged his shirt between her fingers, snapping it lightly and releasing it as she smirked up at him. His demeanor shifted, his breathing almost seemed to quicken and become shallower.

He watched her with an intense look in his aqua gaze as she slipped her hand under the fabric, ghosting her fingers over his abs. They flexed in response, and he removed his hands from his hips, his arms hanging stiffly at his side. He almost seemed to be curling his hands into fists and releasing them, as if trying to resist reaching out. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she peered up at him, carefully gauging his reaction.

When she raked her nails lightly over the skin of his abdomen he sucked his breath in and nearly growled. “Don’t tease me, lass,” he warned, his voice husky and low as his eyes bored into hers.

Abby quirked an eyebrow as she held his gaze, again dragging her nails down his skin, lower toward the waist of his breeches. He almost growled again as one hand shot up and caught her wrist, halting her progress with a vice-like grip.

But she simply smirked and gave a casual shrug. “Who’s teasing?”

He was on her in an instant, holding her face between his hands as he parted her lips with his tongue to devour her with a searing kiss. She responded eagerly, sliding her arms around his neck as she stepped closer into his arms, clinging to him desperately. They swayed for a moment, their feet shuffling under the sheer force of the kiss.

Just as suddenly as he had kissed her Rylen bent his knees, stooping to hook his hands on her thighs to lift her easily. Abby tightened her knees on either side of him, but he held her in his arms as if she was weighed nothing, taking a few quick strides to cover the distance to his cot.

He only broke the kiss when he had her on her back on the cot, and then it was only to begin pulling her clothing off of her. She worked just as desperately, yanking his shirt over his head, fingers fumbling with too much haste and eagerness to undo the laces of his breeches. In the end he was faster than her, getting her lower half bared before she could manage his pants, and when he suddenly shifted lower on the cot her breath caught in her throat.

The smirk on his face made her feel like he thought he’d won their race, and now he was claiming his prize. All thought of how much she’d wanted him out of his pants fled when he gripped her thighs and held them spread, burying his face against her. He spent no time teasing her, instead he swirled and ran his tongue along her without hesitation, without preamble.

It had been far too long since she'd felt someone's tongue on her, and the sight of his bright eyes glancing up at her from between her legs drove her wild. He slid his flattened tongue over her relentlessly, and it seemed hardly any time at all before her whole body was shaking, her hands tugging at his hair as she sobbed his name as her release crashed over her.

He gave a few last languid strokes of his tongue after she had calmed, and then he pressed an almost too gentle kiss to the inside of her thigh. She tried to come back to her senses, breathing heavily and struggling to keep her eyes open to watch him. His fingers made short work of the laces she had fumbled with so much, and she moaned in soft appreciation when he finally stripped out of the rest of his clothes.

She pushed herself to her knees and reached for his waist, pulling him closer as he gave her a lazy grin. “Come here,” she demanded, gripping his hips and trying to get him into the cot with her.

There was a moment of awkward maneuvering considering the cot’s size, but after some wrestling and shifting Abby managed to settle herself astride his hips. She giggled when she saw the gleam that came into his eyes, and he reclined on the pillow, his hands behind his head.

“Take that off, lass,” he told her, gesturing at the bra she was still wearing. “I want to look at you while you ride me.”

Abby caught her lip between her teeth as she reached behind her to undo the hooks. As soon as she slid it off her shoulders his hands took the place of the black lace, his calloused palms hot and rough on her sensitive peaks. She moaned softly again, enjoying it for a moment before she reached eagerly for his cock to guide it to her.

She slid down until his length rested deep within her, and the loud moan the movement drew from his throat excited her, the way he sounded like he had never enjoyed anything more. His hands moved from her breasts to her hips, holding on tightly and granting her extra leverage as she began to bounce herself on him. But he let her direct the pace, seeming to enjoy the way she’d subtly taken charge and was rolling her hips against him in search of another release.

Every time she caught his eye he smiled, moaning when she took him deeper into her, eyelids fluttering shut when she slowed or quickened her rhythm. He watched intently when she slipped a hand between her legs, gaze fixated on the sight of her stroking herself with her fingers.

“Aye, Abigail,” he encouraged her, finally jerking up with his hips to meet her thrusts. The sound of his voice gravelly in its need, his brogue almost slurring the words, excited her further until she fell apart at the sound of him purring her name again.

When she finished she leaned forward, her hands bracing her on his chest as she tried to catch her breath so that she could continue, because to her surprise he hadn’t come with her. Before she could move again, though, he wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them so that she was beneath him.

“I’m not done with you yet, lass,” he said when she let out a small gasp at the abrupt change, and he chuckled as he settled in place over her.

He took up a faster pace, hips snapping into hers harder than the night before, not as tender as it had been the first time. Instead it was urgent, passionate, and it began to push her to new heights after the release she had just found. He grabbed first one hand and then the other, interlacing his fingers with hers as he pinned them above her head, making even the way he was pounding into her feel caring and intimate. His kiss was almost as desperate as his thrusts, her moans and gasps disappearing into his mouth as it twisted against hers.

Something about feeling him inside of her just seemed right, the same deeper feeling stirring inside her as it had the first time. She was returning his kiss with just as much fervor, her fingers tightening on his, legs hooked on his legs to hold him close to her. When he finally slid his mouth to her neck and lower, pressing hot kisses to every bit of skin he could reach, he released one of her hands and slipped his between them.

He easily coaxed another release from her, watching her face almost greedily as she arched against him and cried his name. Her mind was a jumble, unable to focus on anything but the smirk on his face, the feelings overpowering her until she was shaking, clinging desperately to him as she came undone. A moment later his brows furrowed and he faltered in his rhythm, thrusting deep and slowly stilling before he buried his face against her neck with a groan.

They lay holding one another, neither seeming able or willing to move, again simply enjoying the afterglow. Abby absently ran her hand through his hair, taking secret pleasure in the way she knew it would be a wreck, sticking up from every angle when he raised his head. The mental image made her smile, but immediately she frowned, wondering at this feeling.

This was more than attraction, and her heart squeezed almost painfully as she thought about how she hadn’t meant to give in to it again. But somehow, she felt so comfortable.

Safe.

“Lass,” he murmured, his voice languid and slow. “You’re wonderful, I - I don’t want to give you up.”

“I - I can’t -” she tried to protest, but she couldn’t think of the words.

He raised his head to stare down at her, a curious frown on his face. But she caught sight of his chestnut hair, obvious finger trails making it stick up from how she had played with it, and she instantly burst into laughter.

“What?” he asked, his frown turning into a scowl.

“Sorry - I messed up your - your hair, it looks -” she tried to quiet her laughter and shook her head, “sorry, it just looks so funny.”

To her surprise his frown disappeared and he began to laugh with her, reaching with a hand to feel his hair. “I think I’d be disappointed if it was tidy right now,” he quipped. “But I was trying to be serious, Abigail.”

“I - sorry,” she giggled again, shifting under him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She put on a solemn frown, pursing her lips as she peered up at him. “Serious. Right.”

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, propping himself above her on his elbows, one hand lazily brushing strands of her hair off her face and neck. “I know what I want, lass, and it’s - it’s not for this to end,” he began again. “It meant more than one - two - nights to me. I want -”

“Ry, I’m a disaster,” she insisted again, cutting off his sweet words. Her heart was racing, eyes wide as she stared up at him. “I’ll only hurt you, you don’t - trust me, you don’t want to be involved with me -”

“I’m not some young lad, unable to handle a little pain,” he pointed out. “I wish you’d let me decide what I can handle, what chances I’m willing to take.”

“I - why do you want me? I’m such a fuck-up,” she murmured, trying again to fight the calming feeling of _safety_ coursing through her.

She didn’t deserve it.

“No, you’ve just been through a lot,” he said. “You’re strong, intelligent, stubborn - feisty. I like that, lass. I like - you. Please, Abigail, more than just these last two nights.”

“I - I can’t promise anything,” she denied quietly, shaking her head. “Please, don’t make me.”

“I’m not proposing marriage and wee ones,” he told her. “Just - at the least, faithfulness. Could you do that? Nothing more, just - what this is. We’re both adults, it doesn’t have to be more than this right now. But I - I know I can’t give you up, and I certainly don’t want to share you.”

“I - I could do that,” she agreed slowly. “That’s the most I can promise right now, Ry. I won’t - I won’t fuck anyone else, if you promise me the same.”

“Aye, Abigail,” he assured her. “I don’t want anyone else, anyway. Just you, just my lass.”

Her heart was racing so fast she thought perhaps it was trying to escape the confines of her chest, but she managed to simply nod as she peered up at him. If he could tell her nerves or her thoughts he didn’t show it, instead he simply smiled at her and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Now, will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he smirked at her.

“I - yes, unless you sleep in past the time I need to leave for the tavern,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

His words were still distracting her until she felt out of sorts, and suddenly the idea of fleeing the tent again was more than a little appealing. But he kissed her forehead tenderly, finally rolling off of her and pulling her over on her side to hold.

“Wake me if that’s the case,” he murmured sleepily. “I want to kiss you goodbye before we part for the day.”

“I - hang on,” she pushed out of his arms and struggled off the cot, suddenly remembering.

“Something the matter?” he asked, pushing up on one elbow as he watched her.

“Witherstalk,” she told him, digging through her purse. “Since _someone_ doesn’t seem to want to be careful.”

To her surprise he looked almost sheepish, and he dragged his hand down his chin as he looked away. “Sorry, lass, I - I forgot, you’re not from - but you got some?” he asked.

“Yeah, I asked Evelyn,” she answered absently, finding the small vial of witherstalk she had made. She uncorked it and drained the contents, again making a face as she tried not to gag in response.

“You asked - Maker, the Herald -” his words were hidden in the barks of laughter that met her answer, and he fell back on the pillow again, his whole body shaking with his mirth.

Abby giggled a little as well, remembering how awkward the entire morning had been. She shrugged as she knelt on the cot again, collapsing on her side and tucking herself against him, an arm and a leg thrown haphazardly across his body as if to anchor herself. Her sudden presence nestling against him seemed to snap him out of his laughter, and he tightened his arm around her and pulled her closer.

“I’ll try to remember to be more careful in the future,” he told her. “That way you can avoid mortifying the poor wee Herald more than you have to.”

Abby shook her head and nuzzled her cheek against where it lay on his chest. “She wasn’t as mortified as I thought, actually,” she murmured. She decided not to bring up Cullen, suddenly feeling exhausted and simply wanting to slip into slumber in his arms. “Good night, Ry.”

He chuckled and squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Night, Abigail.”

 

* * *

 

“No, lass, come here, I’m not done with you -”

“Ry, I have to - I have to get to work,” she protested, but the moment his lips touched hers again she arched into his embrace, straining on her toes so that she could kiss him. After several moments of feeling lost to everything but the feel and taste of him, she pulled back and giggled. “I have to go, seriously.”

“Aye, I suppose we both do,” he sighed, and he pressed a brief kiss to her, followed quickly by another. “All right, lass. Tonight?”

“I - I mean, depending on when the tavern closes, and how tired I am,” she evaded, pushing lightly at the armor on his chest as she tried to slip out of his embrace. “We’ll see.”

“I’ll see you there,” he told her, and he winked when she glanced up at him again.

She gave a jerky nod and turned to leave, but a sudden slap on her rear made her yelp and spin back around.

Rylen smirked at her, a gleam in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows. “Aye, lass? Something else?”

Abby scrunched her nose at him but turned to leave the tent again, scurrying through the flaps before he could catch her with another swat. She hurried through Haven to the cabin she shared with the Herald, intending to change her clothes and freshen up before work. When she snuck in, she closed the door behind her quietly before actually turning to face the room.

“Oh good, I was hoping to see you at some point today,” a soft voice greeted her.

Evelyn straightened from where she was packing a large satchel, wearing the simple wool robes she usually wore around Haven. She smiled when she saw Abby, showing no hint of surprise or disapproval at the fact that Abby was just now coming back to the cabin. She didn’t even seem to show any hint at the slightly stilted way they had left things the day before; instead she almost seemed to light up when she saw her.

“I - hi,” Abby said hesitantly, and she walked to sit on the edge of Evelyn’s bed. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you I’m leaving tomorrow to go to Val Royeaux. It’s the capital of Orlais, a-another country,” she explained, and Abby nodded, trying to act casual and confused. “I’ll be gone for a few weeks again, though mostly just traveling. I doubt what I’m doing there will take long, but it’s quite far.”

“I see,” Abby commented. But her mind was suddenly reeling.

Val Royeaux.

The Templars.

Even the good ones, the few that doubt but go along with the Lord Seeker anyway.

_Barris._

“I’m certain you’ll be fine, I just wanted to let you know -” Evelyn began again.

“I - you’re off to speak with the - Chantry, right?” Abby blurted out, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“How - how did you know?” Evelyn asked, pausing her packing as she turned a sharp frown to Abby.

“I - um -” Abby hesitated, mind working fast.

_Shit._

“Listen, this - this is going to sound crazy,” Abby began, scooting forward and holding Evelyn’s pale gaze intently. “There’s something you need to do while you’re there.”

Evelyn’s brows furrowed more deeply but she nodded slowly, seeming willing to at least listen.

“If I tell you something, will you just - take my word for it?” Abby suggested.

“Depends on what you have to tell me,” Evelyn mused.

“It’s about - something that happens while you’re there, something that - you need to fix, someone you need to save,” Abby told her haltingly.

“And how do you know this? I thought you didn’t know anyone -” Evelyn straightened and gave Abby another of her piercing looks.

“If - if this works, if I’m right,” Abby said, speaking slowly as she considered, her heart racing as she thought about just how much she was risking. “I’ll tell you how I know. All of it. Just - promise me you’ll try, and - and keep it between us.”

For several long moments Evelyn’s lightning eyes wandered over Abby’s face, her features almost tense as if she was deep in thought. “All right,” she finally agreed. “Tell me what you’re worried about and I’ll - see what I can do. But I’ll hold you to your agreement, and if this puts the Inquisition in danger -”

“No, no - it should help,” Abby hurried to assure her. “I promise.”

“Still, though,” Evelyn insisted. She didn’t need to finish the thought, didn’t need to finish the threat - the sudden hardness in her eyes was enough to convey her message.

“Listen, I - I think you’re going to run into some Templars, there, and a few of them - just, do what you can to get them to join the Inquisition,” Abby told her, her words coming out in a rush.

“Me? Convince Templars to join the Inquisition?” Evelyn’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “You must be joking, they won’t listen to - they’ve all branded me an apostate and a heretic, despite the fact that I stayed loyal to the Circle when rebellion broke out -”

“Shit,” Abby muttered, realizing she had a point. After all, there was that option in the game, trying to convince them - and it never worked.

But she remembered, Barris hesitated the longest, he almost seemed willing to give in and follow. Perhaps - maybe if one of their own…

Abby chewed her lip as she considered the possibility, realizing it would look as if she simply wanted to send him away from her, that he may be suspicious of her reasons if he found out where the idea had come from. Although that was likely to happen anyway, considering what she was asking them to do, what she was revealing.

If it could save good men, though, it was worth the look of suspicion she was sure to see on his face, the possibility that this may end things.

Pushing those thoughts aside she took a deep breath. “Take the Captain - take - take Rylen with you,” Abby insisted, raising her gaze to Evelyn’s once more. She steadied her voice, setting her jaw in her determination. “They would listen to one of their own. Take Rylen with you and tell him to do what he can, though I have a feeling he’ll try even if you don’t tell him. Just please - it’s a chance to save a few good men, who will be useful to the Inquisition. Please, Evelyn.”

The Herald simply stared at her for a moment, brows furrowed slightly as if she was thinking hard. Finally she nodded. “Yes, Abby. I’ll take him with me and - see if your suspicions are correct,” she agreed solemnly. “But when I come back, I’d like some answers.”

“Of course,” Abby said, but she didn’t breathe a sigh of relief like she thought she would.

Instead her insides twisted as she thought about the risk she was taking - and how it might impact the two closest relationships she had in an otherwise lonely, hostile world.

 


	12. 'Cause You Know Me, I Could Not Give Up a Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I honestly got hung up on some canon - and then I realized, we're all familiar with the canon scene, and we don't need to reread it all just for a few additions from Rylen. It will be addressed, just not rehashed.
> 
> So hooray, finally an update now that I've figured that out! As soon as I rethought the pacing without the canon scene, I realized that I actually had the chapter ready to go for you for a while now. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

He never could place the scent of her.

Warm, sweet, slightly spicy - it was so much a part of her, and ever since he’d gotten her into his bed he caught whiffs of the scent all throughout his tent, on articles of his clothing, the blankets and pillows piled on the makeshift canvas cot. But now the scent was filling his nostrils more strongly, and when he shifted slightly something silky tickled his face.

Abigail nestled back into his embrace at his movement, and her fingers lightly squeezed his hand where she held it. For a moment he tightened his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, drinking her in and enjoying slowly waking up cuddled against her back. His eyes opened, though, and he realized he could see the soft tinge of grey light that meant dawn had come.

The last three nights he had slept so soundly with her tucked in the cot beside him, her warm, naked skin incredibly soft against his. Even though it had meant waiting until she was done with work at the tavern, the time he had spent exploring her and listening to the sounds she made while he was inside her had been worth less sleep than normal. The night before she had even met him halfway between the tavern and his tent, as if she had been heading to seek him out for the night.

There had been a slight desperation in the way she had responded to his touch and kisses, as well, and at the memory of her passion he leaned down to press a kiss to the grey rose on her shoulder. He was leaving today, since apparently his presence was required on the journey to Val Royeaux. The sudden thought of being away for so many weeks after finally wooing her was more than a little irksome.

He tightened his arms again, snuggling her in his embrace as he pressed another line of kisses to her shoulder. She shifted in his embrace, but wiggled her hips back against him as she gave a soft moan. When he slid his hand from her belly to cup one of her breasts she let out a quiet giggle and nuzzled her face against the pillow.

“Abigail,” he murmured, and he followed her name with yet another kiss to her skin. “Are you awake, lass? I have to leave in awhile, I want to say farewell properly before I go.”

“You mean you wanna fuck again,” she muttered sleepily.

“That would be the best way to do it, if you ask me,” he agreed with a chuckle. “I’ll be gone for weeks, Abigail. I’ll miss having you in my arms.”

“You’ll just miss having an easy lay,” she accused, still mumbling into the pillow her face was pressed against.

“What? No,” he denied, and he pushed himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her more easily. “I’ll miss you, you batty lass. I only just got to test your sweetness, I’m not ready to be away from it for so long.”

“You say the nicest things,” she murmured, again nuzzling her face into the pillow.

He considered for a moment, trying to decipher her mood, and finally he chuckled. “We don’t have to, lass,” he conceded. “I just thought maybe you’d like for me to make love to you one last time before I go. After all you’ll have weeks of sleeping alone in that cabin, all by yourself. But if you’d rather sleep a bit more, that’s fine by me.”

She was silent, and then wiggled her hips back against him again. Still, though, she didn’t say anything and simply kept her face buried in the pillow. But the way she had shifted her position was almost like an invitation, and he slowly slid his hand down her front until he could slip his hand between her legs.

Rylen wasn’t surprised by the wetness he discovered, since he had felt fairly certain her teasing had been just that. He slid his finger along her slit a few times, spreading her excitement and occasionally stopping to circle around her pearl with a finger. It was just enough to tease her, and he smiled when her breathing changed tempo and a soft whimper escaped against the pillow.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to take you, lass?” he purred in her ear as he dipped his fingertip inside her.

“I - I don’t want to run you late,” she murmured breathlessly. “And I have work -”

“There’s plenty of time,” he assured her, and he buried his face against her neck to press kisses to it.

She rolled and shifted again so that she was on her stomach, arms folded under the pillow. He laid over her, using his knees to spread her legs so that he could take his place between them. His fingers were still exploring her, teasing her, and he pressed his tip against her but didn’t push inside.

“Do you want me, lass?” he asked. She hadn’t said yes yet, and he wanted to hear her say it, to hear her tell him again that she wanted him.

“I - I do,” she answered in a hurried whisper, and her arms flexed under the pillow as she tried to push herself up a little. “Yes, Ry, I - I want you.”

He slid slowly into her until he rested deep within, and with a groan she buried her face back in the pillow. After a moment she lifted her head and reached to lace her fingers with his where his hand rested near her head. The pace he took up was languid, still feeling sleepy and simply savoring the way she felt around him as he rolled his hips into hers.

The hand he had between her and the cot he used to continue teasing her, circling her nub with his fingertip as he moved within her. The whimpers he was drawing from her were music to his ears, and he peppered her shoulders and back with sloppy kisses as he listened to her. When he finally let himself touch her she cried out, and the fact that she didn’t try to bury her face in the pillow to muffle her cries only encouraged him.

He let go of the hand he held and turned her face to his, desperate to kiss her, to steal her breathy moans with his eager lips. The feeling of her, the scent and taste of her, the way she mingled his name with soft curses as he pushed her closer to the edge were all unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d taken more lovers to bed than he could easily count, but everything with her felt right, natural, and he was already close to his release like an overeager lad.

When he felt her clenching around him as she fell apart he was struck by the same sense of belonging and utter heaven he had had the other times. As soon as she went limp beneath him with one last soft cry, he pulled himself from within her to release his spend on her skin, remembering his promise to be more careful. His mind was blank, muddled, and now all he really wanted was to fall back asleep with her tucked into his arms.

Instead he tried to steady himself as he pushed off the cot, stumbling slightly to the small basin waiting with a rag on a stand. He dipped the rag in the water and wrung it out before he returned to where she lay. As he tenderly cleaned her skin she giggled, rubbing her face in the pillow and stretching with slow, feline grace.

“Mmm, you're right, that was the best way to say goodbye,” she murmured. “How'd you get so good at that? I thought you Chantry boys were all pious and vowed to the Maker or something.”

Rylen chuckled as he finished wiping her skin, and then he gave her a quick swat on the rear, unable to resist. She yelped playfully and shot him the look he was coming to adore, with her nose scrunched up as she pouted at him. “Where did you get that idea, lass?”

“I - uh, just stuff I overheard around Haven,” she answered, and he frowned when he realized how she suddenly seemed evasive. “Crap I need to get going. I wanted to take a bath before I went to the tavern but now I don't have time.”

She hopped off the cot and grabbed her clothes, shaking them out before she began to pull them on. Once she had finished lacing her breeches she rummaged through the small bag she always carried and withdrew a glass tube. She unstoppered it and pressed the top of it, spraying something on her neck and wrists.

Immediately the familiar scent that clung to her became more apparent, and Rylen stopped lacing his breeches to walk closer to her. He brushed her hair aside and buried his nose against her neck, drinking in the scent.

“What?” she asked, pausing in putting the small silver cap back on the tube as she felt his arms wrap around her. When he simply responded by pressing kisses to her neck and holding her more tightly, she giggled and leaned back against him. “You’re insatiable,” she accused playfully.

“I think you like that, lass,” he murmured before he nibbled at her earlobe. “I just can’t get enough of the smell and feel of you.”

“It’s just a cologne,” she protested.

“Aye, but it reminds me of having you in my arms, being inside you,” he told her. He pressed one last kiss to her cheek before he released her, but he got a sudden idea. As he stepped back he took the glass tube from her hands and looked it over, then pulled the small silver cap off of it and sniffed. This was it, this golden liquid was the scent that he couldn’t get enough of, the one that he would miss while he was gone.

Abigail stood watching him with a curious frown as he searched his packed satchel for the handkerchief tucked in with his belongings. He shook it out and inspected the silver top of the tube before he tried pressing it in, releasing the spray. With a smirk he sprayed a few more times until the piece of fabric was saturated with the scent of her. He stoppered the glass tube again and passed it back to her, quirking an eyebrow when he saw the odd look on her face.

“You all right, Abigail?” he asked as he folded the handkerchief again and put it in his pack.

“I - yeah, I’m fine,” she answered, stuffing the tube back in her bag. “I guess I hadn’t really thought that you - you really will miss me and not just - getting laid.”

He finished lacing his breeches as she pulled her tall leather boots on, but when she stood again he pulled her back into his arms. “Aye, I meant what I said, lass,” he assured her. It was odd to him, the way she kept seeming to doubt his words, or think he meant something else when he said them. As if she expected them to simply be pretty words that lacked real meaning, only meant to keep her in his bed. “I’ll think about you the whole time I’m gone,” he insisted, and he slipped a hand along her cheek to tilt her face up so he could look at her.

“I - I hope you have a good trip,” she said quietly, but she immediately frowned and chewed a lip, almost like that wasn’t what she had meant to say. “It’s not going to be dangerous, is it?”

“The road may be, but no, we’ll be fine lass,” he said, hoping he didn’t seem like he was brushing her concerns away but instead simply reassuring her. She looked so worried, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. “I’ll be back before you know it. And if anyone gives you trouble at the tavern, just let the Commander know, he’ll take care of you.”

She nodded but didn’t seem able to find any words to agree. Instead she peered up at him, and the soft look in her eyes compelled him to lean down and steal another deep kiss from her. Weeks apart, weeks where he’d maybe only be able to slip her one or two ravens, weeks spent in Orlais and not here, doing more important work and holding her each night as he slept. The feelings of irritation he felt translated into near desperation as he crushed her to him and kissed her, and he was mildly surprised that she was returning the same fervor.

He finally pulled away and pressed one last, featherlight kiss to her lips. She was breathless, and her eyes opened slowly to look up at him, almost as if she was surprised.

“Believe me now, lass?” he asked, and he brushed her hair behind her ear as he kissed her forehead.

“I guess,” she murmured, but she stood on her tiptoes and nipped his chin with her teeth before she kissed the same spot. “Take care of yourself, and take care of Evelyn for me too, would you?”

He chuckled as he released her. “Aye, I will - though I think the wee lass can take care of herself just fine,” he told her. “I’ve seen her training with her dagger and her magic now - she’s quite the force to be reckoned with. Oh, lass - wait.”

She turned from where she had been heading to the flaps of the tent. “Yeah?”

“If you have trouble with your magic while we’re gone, please - seek out the Commander,” he requested tentatively, hoping that she would understand that it wasn’t doubt but concern that made him think of it. “I know he can be gruff and distrusting, but he’d help you if you needed it.”

Abigail pursed her lips for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, I will. I shouldn’t need - I mean I’ve been fine,” she hurried to say, but something shifted and almost closed behind her dark eyes as if she wasn’t keen on the subject.

“Have you still been having trouble?” he asked, taking a few steps to close the distance between them again.

“No, no, not trouble,” she said, and then she groaned and arched her neck. “I just mean - um, the Fade is still weird, I’m just - still getting used to it all, that’s all. But I’m fine, really.”

“Abigail, is something bothering you in the -”

“I need to get to work, you need to get on the road,” she interrupted, trying to turn back to the tent’s entrance.

“Wait,” he insisted, and he grabbed her arms and turned her back to face him. “Abigail, are you all right?”

“I’m - I’m fine, please - stop worrying about me, stop - being so nice,” she chided him, and she tried to push out of his arms. “I’ll - see you when you get back, okay?”

He frowned as he stared down at her, trying to decipher the sudden change in her attitude. Perhaps she was insulted, offended that he thought she would still need help with her magic. But the way she had mentioned the Fade didn’t reassure him that that wasn’t the case. “Aye, lass. I’ll - I’ll see you when I return.”

He was still loosely holding her hand from how she had tried to push out of his arms, and he lifted it to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingers. She gave him a small smile and then nodded her head before she pulled her hand out of his and finally hurried out of the tent. For a moment he simply stared after her, but then he remembered that it was after dawn and they would be leaving soon. He finished getting into his armor quickly so that he could check that he had everything he needed. When he decided that he did, he tied his sword to his belt and slung his satchel and shield over his back.

There was a small bustle and commotion at the front gates of Haven, and he looked over the others who were preparing their mounts for the journey. The elven apostate was speaking with Varric as they readied their belongings, and the Seeker was standing patiently by her readied mount, waiting. The Commander was slightly apart from the group, arms folded as he scowled looking over the preparations.

And further up the path, the Herald and Abigail were speaking to one another. The Herald gave Abigail a quick hug before they parted ways. Abigail glanced his way with a small smile as she waved and then hurried in the direction of the tavern. Rylen returned the gesture and then continued to the group, stopping beside the Commander.

“Are you certain I need to accompany them, Commander?” he asked again.

“Yes, Captain,” Cullen answered him. “The Herald was insistent that a member of the Order be present to face the clerics. I think perhaps she hopes it will help them take her more seriously, showing a united front between Templars and mages within the Inquisition.”

“Aye, so you said,” Rylen grumbled. “It was her idea?” he added, and he glanced over his shoulder at where Abigail had disappeared on the path to the tavern.

“Yes, but I agree with it,” the Commander answered. He frowned and turned slightly to face Rylen. “Why?”

Rylen shook his head and looked away from where he had been staring in the direction of the tavern. “Nothing, just - surely I’m not the best option. I didn’t follow the Order when they decided to run off after the mages.”

“Exactly, you chose instead to remain with the Chantry, and not contribute to the war and chaos,” Cullen pointed out. “Are you sure it’s not just a reluctance to leave, uh - _Haven_ \- that’s making you question going?”

Rylen chuckled and rubbed a hand along his chin. “No, just surely I’m better here, more useful helping train recruits and organize patrols. I’m no good with words, or convincing people.”

“That is not what I have heard,” Cullen mused slowly, a knowing smirk coming across his face. “If you managed to sweet talk such a bristly ‘lass’ into your bed, the clerics should be a piece of cake.”

Rylen cleared his throat, shifting slightly to adjust the satchel thrown over his shoulder. “Has it been that obvious?”

“It wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t told me quite so bluntly,” the Commander groused.

“She - what?”

“I accidentally walked in on the Herald showing her about witherstalk,” Cullen told him. “I misunderstood what was happening, I thought she was assisting the Herald for herself -”

At this Rylen laughed, imagining how flustered they both must have been, and Cullen shot him a glare. “Oh come now, mate, how could you think that? And anyway, I’m sure you were relieved to find out that wasn’t the case -”

“This again?” the Commander groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re the one being obvious,” Rylen pointed out, but at Cullen’s scowl he shrugged. “Go talk to the lass before we leave -”

But he cut off his suggestion as he saw the Herald turning from her horse to walk over to speak with the Commander. Cullen cleared his throat and seemed to stand straighter as he watched her approach. Rylen turned to prepare his mount nearby, but tried to keep it from being too apparent that he was attempting to give them some privacy.

“Well, Commander, I will send word once we arrive in Val Royeaux,” the Herald said when she stopped before him. “Hopefully the clerics will listen to reason, and again - thank you for sending your best to help convince them.”

“Of course, Herald,” Cullen agreed. “I pray all goes well, and look forward to your report. In the meantime, I will continue to oversee our forces in the Hinterlands and surrounding areas.”

“Thank you, Commander,” the Herald said. She stood for a moment, scuffing her toe in the snowy mud of the path before she nodded. “Well, I should get going -”

“Yes, of course, do not let me delay you,” Cullen hurried to say. “Until your return, Herald.”

The Herald gave a small smile and turned to head back to her mount. The Commander stared after her until he heard Rylen’s soft chuckles from beside him.

“Not another word, Captain,” he gritted out.

“You’re no fun, mate,” Rylen teased with a wistful sigh.

“Look after her, would you?” Cullen murmured, turning a more serious expression to Rylen.

“Aye, of course,” Rylen agreed, reaching out to clap the Commander on his shoulder. “I promised my lass I would too, and between the two of you I know better than to let anything happen to her. I’m not sure who I’m more scared of. The lass may have you beat.”

Cullen smirked and shook his head. “I suppose she does have something to withhold that I cannot, should you fail,” he quipped.

Rylen rolled his eyes and released the other man’s shoulder. “Laugh it up,” he grumbled before he swung himself onto his horse.

Cullen chuckled and shook his head. “I am, hadn’t you noticed?” But he turned more serious and nodded. “Send me word as soon as you are able.”

“Aye, Commander,” Rylen agreed, and with a quick salute he turned his mount to follow the others out through the gates of Haven.

 

* * *

 

The journey to Val Royeaux took longer than a week, and passed with little incident. Their small party spent the time speaking of the Inquisition, of their plans for Val Royeaux, or listening to Varric weave his stories. The Herald said little, simply content to sit and listen to the others, withdrawn yet carefully observing everything happening around her. Occasionally she asked one of her companions questions, like when she listened to Solas speak of the Fade, or asked Cassandra what they may expect from the clerics. Whenever she caught Rylen’s gaze she merely gave a timid smile and then quickly looked away.

He didn’t blame her, after all they had hardly spoken - and the only time they really had, they had argued as Templars and mages were wont to do. It amazed him that she had then insisted he accompany her to Val Royeaux, considering she hadn’t seemed to think highly of him then. Vaguely he wondered if it had anything to do with Abigail and what she may have told her. Since this seemed such an important undertaking, his sudden, mandated inclusion confused him.

The sight of the opulent city after over a week of their journey brought both relief and apprehension to Rylen. He had been serious in his protestations; he wasn’t good with words, wasn’t the best choice to help convince the clerics to ally the Chantry with the Inquisition or to listen to the Herald. He glanced aside at the young mage, noticing the way she hesitated before the gates and took a deep, steadying breath as if preparing.

Her cheeks had lost their rosiness, her full lips pale, but otherwise the nervousness she was clearly feeling was easily disguised from anyone unfamiliar with her. If Rylen hadn’t noticed the shaky quality to her breathing or the way her hand trembled when she gestured for them to continue, he wouldn’t have known that the Herald was clearly apprehensive about what they were facing.

“You all right, Sparkles?” Varric whispered as they passed through the gates.

“I’m - I’m fine, just - worried something will go wrong,” the Herald answered.

“Eh, don’t be,” Rylen cut in to assure her, tugging slightly at the armor he was wearing to straighten it, nervous still at the prospect of representing the Inquisition. “These blasted clerics are just full of themselves. They don’t have any substance to their claims about you. You’ll be fine, Herald.”

She stared at him for a moment, a curious quirk to her brows, and then she nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

As soon as they entered the city people turned wide-eyed stares to them before scurrying off, whispering together as they fled. Rylen sighed and dragged his hand down his chin, his apprehension increasing by the moment.

“The city still mourns,” the Seeker observed.

But Rylen looked around and noticed very little mourning happening - instead everyone seemed to be gossipping, watching the new arrivals with rapt attention.

Beside him Varric sighed. “Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are.”

“Your skills of observation never cease to amaze me, Varric,” Cassandra groused.

It had been a constant thing for them, griping and teasing one another the whole journey, and Rylen did his best to hide the smirk that followed Cassandra’s words. To his surprise when he caught the Herald’s eye she raised her gaze heavenward and then looked back to him with a small grin. Instinctively he winked at her, and her grin widened slightly before she returned once more to the path before them.

She slowed when an Inquisition scout hurried their way, and the smile left her face as quickly as it had come upon it. Beside her the Seeker stopped in her tracks as well, a curious scowl crossing her features.

“You’re one of Leliana’s people,” Cassandra observed. “What have you found?”

The scout looked between the Seeker and the Herald as if uncertain who to address. Finally she settled on the Seeker. “The Chantry mothers await you, but - so do a great many Templars,” the scout reported.

“There are Templars here?” Cassandra repeated, sounding surprised.

Rylen shifted where he stood, folding his arms across his chest. Templars, in Val Royeaux? But they had all left, why would they be here? And what were the odds of them being here at the same time the Inquisition was arriving? He glanced aside at the Herald, and his frown deepened when he saw the curious expression on her face, as if she wasn’t exactly surprised and yet was somehow still disturbed.

“They’re gathering on the other side of the market,” the scout was saying, pulling Rylen out of his musings. “I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you.”

“There’s only one thing to do then,” Cassandra sighed.

 _Aye, figure out what this all means,_ Rylen thought to himself, and he dug in the small satchel tied to his belt. Quickly pulling out parchment and a small bit of charcoal, he scribbled out a message to the Commander and rolled it tightly. He passed it to the scout as the others talked around him, and the scout took it and saluted.

“Send a raven to the Commander,” he instructed her, and then hurried to catch up with the others as they made their way to the market, prepared to do his best to sway his fellows to join the Inquisition.


	13. Let's Not and Say We Did

Work at least kept her busy. It kept her mind off things, it kept her with a daily goal, a project to put effort into. Without it, she was adrift, feeling far more alone than she had even when she first arrived. After all, she had now found two relationships, but they were both currently gone - and she wasn’t entirely certain where things would stand when they returned from Val Royeaux.

Flissa was sweet enough, but they were usually so busy they couldn’t get to know one another really beyond simply knowing they could rely on each other for work. And so Abby found herself feeling isolated, trying her best to keep her mind from wandering too frequently to what the future may hold for her. She found that if she thought about it too much, the Fade began to reflect her fears, her anxieties - and she had thought that Desire had been difficult to deal with.

But the tavern was beginning to slow in business, since more and more of the Inquisition’s forces were being sent to other parts of Thedas to assist and try to fix things. It meant less coin, less bone-weary, exhausting days - and far less distraction for her wandering mind.

“Miss Abby?”

She snapped out of her musings at the deep, familiar voice, looking further down the bar. Straightening quickly she worked to tie the scabbard she held to her belt as the Commander approached. She had been fingering it absently, tracing the scuffs and marks in the leather, the proof that it had been well used and carried for years - before he decided to give it to her. It had become a habit of hers, so much in recent days since Rylen had left that she barely noticed how often she found herself admiring the dagger and its scabbard.

“Please, stop with the - ‘miss’ - bit,” she said, trying to hide the way her voice wanted to shake. It had been too long since they’d really been face to face, months since they’d been alone together. Rylen had almost always been there as a buffer, or occasionally even Evelyn.

Honestly, she far preferred it that way. She knew he wasn’t a bad person, knew that he wasn’t _really_ scary and intimidating. Except that he absolutely was, considering her situation and how precariously she was already toeing the line. She managed to keep out of Leliana and Cassandra’s way, giving them as wide a berth as she tried to give Solas when he was in Haven. The Commander, on the other hand, seemed especially keen to seek her out of his own volition.

“Apologies, just trying to be polite,” he told her as he stopped before her. He was frowning as he looked her over, and she considered him for a moment before she pursed her lips.

“Need something?” she finally prompted when he didn’t say anything further.

“I was - coming to see how things have been going,” he told her.

“They’re - fine,” she answered slowly, her own frown deepening as she stared at him. Her heart picked up its pace, mind racing as she thought about what myriad of things could have gone wrong to bring the Commander of the Inquisition in to see ‘how things have been going’ in person. “You don’t - usually come in here to check on things. What’s - what’s going on?”

He considered her for a moment longer before he smirked and looked around. “I received a letter from Rylen -”

“Is he okay? Is Evelyn all right?” she interrupted, fingers gripping the edge of the wooden bar.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to imply that something was the matter,” Cullen assured her. “So far their journey has gone well - by my calculations they should arrive at Val Royeaux today or the next day, hopefully. But...” He trailed off and for a moment Abby simply waited.

“Whose butt? Since I highly doubt ‘chicken butt’ is a joke in Thedas,” Abby deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow as she wondered at his almost dramatic pause.

“Chicken - what?” he repeated, staring at her incredulously as if he forgot why he had come to see her at her words. “And whose - I - no, Mis - Abby. I was simply thinking how to - um.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, until she almost expected his next words to be -

“Maker’s breath.”

Well, at least he wasn’t one to disappoint. He was positively crimson, and seemed to be struggling for a moment. It made her wonder until she realized she’d said ‘whose butt’ - and he was likely thinking of Evelyn’s.

Stifling her laughter, she shook her head. “It’s a - stupid joke where I’m from. Someone says like ‘guess what’ and you say ‘chicken butt?’ in reply. Anyway, just my - lame attempt at humor since we only ever seem to be awkward around one another,” she said, taking in the way he was being so awkward around her now. “Instead I just...made this awkward too, so - hooray.” She feebly held up her hands in pathetic, sardonic celebration with the word.

“I - yes, well,” he muttered, and with one more bob of his Adam’s apple as if he was swallowing hard, he glanced back at her. “As I was saying, I received a letter from Rylen. And while everything is all right, it - made me curious. You see, he asked me to check on and keep an eye on you.”

“I -” Abby stopped the sentence as soon as she began it, since her mind raced in about five different directions at the same time. She wanted to deny she needed to be checked on as much as she wanted to ask exactly how he had asked him to check on her. And she hated that she mostly wanted to know if he had said how he was doing, when he’d be back - and whether or not he missed her.

Burying those irritating thoughts she casually tapped a finger against the bar and shrugged, hoping to try again and seem casual. “Well, nice of you to do so, but as you can see I’m fine,” she told him. “Not sure why he asked, there’s no need.”

Cullen regarded her carefully for a moment before he nodded slowly. “Yes, see - that was my initial thought,” he told her. “But Rylen is not a man to ask anything lightly. And I know how highly he regards you - and thinks you an incredibly competent woman.”

“Did he - ask you to come compliment and woo me in his absence or something?” Abby muttered, folding her arms as she felt her cheeks heat.

He thought her competent?

Had he met her?

“No, nothing of the sort,” Cullen said. He frowned a little as he watched her shifting under his watchful gaze. “The fact that he asked me to check on you, considering how highly he thinks of you, made me wonder. After all, he thinks you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, and you proved that when you found work without our help. So if he is asking me to check on you, it is - more than being concerned about ‘his lass.’ He has a reason.”

Abby shrugged and tried to feign ignorance, dismissing the memory of Rylen questioning her about the Fade before he left and seeming concerned at her evasive answers. “I can’t help you if he didn’t tell you what it was,” she answered.

He considered her for a moment before he tried again. “My Second is an honest, reliable sort, not one prone to flights of fancy or unnecessary worries. Are you certain there is not anything you are not telling me?”

“I - I mean, are you sure? He could have just meant in a general, sort of - way about me working at the tavern. I know he was concerned over me working here with the recruits -” she stuttered, tripping over her words.

“I do not believe that is it,” he told her. “After all, the men seem much improved in morale in the short time you have been working here. They seem less - irritated and distracted in the mornings.”

“Going to accuse me of slipping them all booze?” she challenged with an eyebrow raised.

“No, not at all,” he assured her. “I could only assume more were able to break their fast now that two of you are working here.”

Abby shrugged, arms still folded tight before her. “I tweaked the recipe a bit, maybe,” she told him. “Found some spare spices, found some aged cheeses no one was using, some cured meats to give them some more protein…”

Resting his hands on the pommel of his sword he nodded as he watched her describe the changes. “I see,” he commented when she was done explaining. “So again you see what I mean when I say - if Rylen is asking me to check on you, he has a reason. I mean you no harm, and do not intend to do anything more than keep my word to him that I would see if you needed anything in his absence. So please, Abby - can you not think of any reason he would ask me to do so?”

Worrying her bottom lip, Abby looked over the nearly empty tavern as she delayed answering. Flissa had busied herself with cleaning mugs behind the bar, pointedly avoiding looking their direction, as if flustered by the Commander’s presence.

_Tell him._

_Ha - tell_ **_him_ ** _, of all people? What if he kicks me out of Haven?_

“If I may,” he continued in her silence. “If there is something bothering you, I am well versed in matters of the Fade and magic. And you do not need to hold the same reservations of - disappointing,” he put an odd emphasis on the word, “me, considering we have but a casual acquaintance -”

“Jesus Christ, he told you, didn’t he?” Abby challenged, glancing at him again.

Cullen shrugged. “He did not, but considering the facts, it was not hard to suppose why he may be asking for _my_ help, specifically.”

Abby raised a hand and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. There was no use denying it - and after all, maybe he _could_ help. She was getting sick of not sleeping a full night, of waking in a cold sweat after spending her time in the Fade doing her best to refuse demons. “Fine,” Abby muttered. “He doesn’t - know, but it’s probably not too hard for him to guess that I’ve been - having issues. In the Fade. Evelyn has done what she can to help me, but - um, it’s still - difficult. And so different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, luckily for you, there are ways to better manage and deal with that particular problem,” he told her. She was mildly surprised by the small smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. “Flissa,” he turned to face the other woman, “if you will, someone will be along to help you for dinner, but I fear I need to borrow Abby for the rest of the day.”

“Hey - wait - I -” Abby protested, but she fell silent at the piercing look he gave her before he turned to lead the way from the tavern. “With me, please,” he called over his shoulder.

After exchanging an apologetic and confused look with Flissa, she grabbed her purse and hurried out the tavern after Cullen. He was the Commander, after all, and blatantly disobeying him was likely to land her in more trouble than just seeing what it was he wanted with her.

Did she walk beside him?

Behind him?

What the hell was protocol here?

But as if he read her mind he turned and waited for her to catch up when he heard the crunch of her footsteps in the snow behind him. Once she fell into step beside him he turned again and continued through the paths of Haven.

“I understand from the Herald that the Fade is new to you?” Cullen asked as they walked. He sounded as if he was just casually inquiring, making small talk as one might about the weather. But there was a hint of something more than curiosity that made her feel as if she was being interrogated by a parent or other authority figure.

It instantly put her on her guard, reminding her of the way her mother would get a curious gleam in her eye and ask her where she’d been when she got home later than normal. “Yeah, we didn’t have the Fade or magic,” she answered, tightening her fingers on her purse strap. “It’s why I was so fucking freaked out to find out I’m a mage.”

“I can only imagine,” he replied smoothly, but a slight frown quirked his brows together.

They fell silent as they continued through Haven, out through the front gates toward the training grounds. Abby faltered in her steps and glanced up at Cullen. “We going to spar or something?”

Cullen smirked and met her gaze, but he simply continued to a spot in the snow slightly away from the training recruits. Not far from them, Lysette yelled, “No, Petyr - again!” at one of the recruits.

“Have you used a staff at all, in your training with Ev - the Herald?” he asked as he turned to face her. He was resting his hands on the pommel of his sword, feet braced apart, and for a moment she worried he was going to draw his weapon.

“Um - no,” she said, eyeing him warily. “I don’t even have one. Why? Do I - do I need one?”

“For right now, yes,” he answered almost absently, and he turned to a nearby weapon rack, looking it over. He picked a long wooden staff off of it, checking its weight and both ends carefully before he offered it to her.

“Evelyn and I have just been working on control, not - not combat,” she told him. She didn’t move to take the staff, but she was unable to pull her eyes from it as if she worried it would strike or blast her of its own accord. After all, even after all these months magic was still new to her. Though the mistakes she’d made were small and insignificant so far, the idea of practicing _combat_ was terrifying to her.

Especially against him - the Commander, ex-Templar and veteran of Kinloch Hold and the Gallows.

She gulped and glanced up at him, noticing the way he sighed before holding out the staff more insistently.

“Take it, please, Abby,” he directed her. “I promise to go easy on you.”

“That’s super reassuring,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes as she snatched the staff from him. “Sure this isn’t just a chance to try to beat information out of me?”

“Do you have some to be beaten out of you?” he queried, raising an eyebrow at her even as he smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Abby quipped, and she returned his smirk. “So what are we doing? Some Mr. Miyagi bullshit, but with a staff instead of wax?”

“Some what?” he asked, frowning and stopping mid-turn toward the nearby training dummy.

“I - sorry. Movie reference,” she explained unhelpfully. “I wonder if I’ll ever stop saying shit like that...hm.”

When she trailed off as she considered the answer to that musing, Cullen cleared his throat. “A what reference?”

“Oh, um - movie. We had - moving pictures? They told stories, people would watch them a lot, at home and at theatres,” she told him. He was still frowning at her and she shrugged. “Sorry I don’t know how else to explain it besides ‘moving pictures.’ Like...a play? But you could watch it any time, on a screen, because it was recorded -”

“Like watching someone else’s dream from the Fade play out?” he asked.

“Sure, yeah, it could be like a dream,” she agreed, shrugging.

“Interesting,” he said slowly, his brows knitted together as if he was deep in thought. “And yet you did not have the Fade, but you still had dreams?”

“I - yeah,” she answered with another involuntary shrug, realizing how odd that would seem to him. “Our dreams were just from our own minds, imaginations, though. Not the Fade.”

“I see,” he mused after a moment. He gave a slight nod and continued leading the way to the nearby training dummy. After considering it for a moment, he turned to face her, hands resting on his sword once more. He looked casually at ease, but the way his fingers almost seemed to fidget and flex made Abby think something was bothering him. “Strike the training dummy.”

“Um,” she hummed, looking between the dummy and the Commander. “I’m not really a fighter - or at least, not trained. I can throw a solid right hook, but -”

“Strike the target, Abby,” he interrupted, gesturing a hand to the dummy beside him.

Abby heaved a sigh, grumbling slightly under her breath as she adopted what she thought might be a correct stance to fight with a staff. She glanced at Cullen, wondering if he would laugh at her attempt if she was way off. But she noticed that he was simply watching her, his eyes giving her a detached yet critical once over.

He didn’t offer any corrections.

Dreading everything, Abby took a deep breath and then swung the staff at the target. It made contact with just the very tip, barely grazing the mid-section of its ‘body,’ and she stumbled slightly as she was thrown off-balance. Grimacing she planted the staff in the snow and glared at Cullen. “I told you, I don’t know anything about -”

“You misunderstood me,” he interrupted, acting as if she hadn’t just made a fool of herself by lunging and missing a target a few feet from her. “Strike the target with the staff - as a mage.”

“I - what?” she stuttered out. “That’s not what you said -”

“I forgot that you would not immediately think to react with your magic,” he told her. “Perhaps that is how you keep control - you do not even consider using your magic, more often than not. Am I wrong in assuming that?”

“I actively try to avoid using it, usually,” she groused. “It’s more than a little terrifying to end up in a strange land you didn’t think was real and then _also_ to wake up as a mage -”

“‘A strange land you didn’t think was real?’” he repeated, frowning sharply.

“I mean - a land with magic,” she hurried to correct herself. “I thought there was only Earth, and no such thing as magic. That’s all.”

He regarded her closely for a moment before he nodded. “Well, now you have found yourself here, and you need to adapt,” he told her. “Focus, the way you do with Evelyn. And strike the target with the staff.”

Abby tried to center herself, to focus on the strange feeling in her veins that she usually tried her best to ignore, the way she could suddenly feel _it_ racing through her body. The idea of actually feeling her blood distracted her for a moment, but she glanced at the stern, expectant look on the Commander’s face and took a steadying breath.

_Don’t fuck this up - jail or death are worst case scenarios, but also - what if he writes to Rylen?_

_He thinks highly of you._

_Ugh, fuck - why?_

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Abby gritted out. She focused once more on the target, on the feeling, remembering how it had felt every other time she had successfully cast. Like the night she had healed him -

A bolt of light turquoise ice shot out of the tip of the staff, but it shattered on the rocks behind the target. Her aim had been off in her distraction, in her surprise that the staff had suddenly glowed with magic or lyrium or whatever the fuck it was, and it had fired the bolt almost of its own accord. She raised her gaze to Cullen, eyes wide, terrified that he would be angry with her.

Instead, she found him chuckling. “It’s a start,” he said.

“I - sorry, I -” she stuttered out again, but he just continued chuckling and shook his head.

“No need to worry, Abby,” he told her. “I simply wanted to see how you handled a staff. Now, try to strike the target without it.” He held his hand out for the staff and she passed it over, frowning at him as she did.

This really was some Mr. Miyagi bullshit.

Rubbing her hands together she contemplated the target, trying to summon the feelings of - did she want fire or ice? Evelyn hadn’t showed her storm magic yet, or entropy or spirit -

“You are overthinking,” Cullen said, and his sudden observation pulled her out of her thoughts. When she looked at him she saw him brushing snow out of his hair - snow that she was causing, as if she had created a small cloud above them. “Focus, Abby. You do not need to try to impress me, simply - focus and strike the target. However feels natural.”

“None of this feels natural,” she muttered. Turning her attention back to the target, she decided to go with what was easiest. Thinking about the snow beneath her feet, the way ice felt in her hand, she imagined that she could create an icicle that she could chuck at the training dummy. Maybe if she managed it she’d be done here, and he’d let her go back to work.

As the light turquoise ice shattered against the wooden head of the training dummy, Cullen took a step back to avoid the shards, but he smirked as he did. “Well done,” he mused. “And what were you thinking of?”

“How I wished I could just get back to work,” she answered honestly.

To her surprise, Cullen merely laughed. “Fair enough,” he told her. “But that means that you were focused on a goal - a goal with zero expectations or pressure. With the staff, were you - thinking about something else?”

“Whether or not you’d laugh at me, or - or tell Rylen if I couldn't do it,” she admitted. “And how weird it is to be able to - feel my blood, to feel the mana or lyrium or whatever it is. It’s - unnerving.”

Cullen considered her for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “Overthinking,” he said again. “Fixating on what could go wrong, on the strangeness of it. Well,” he looked over the magic ice shards standing out eerily against the snow, “that gives us a place to start.”

“What?” Abby asked, frowning.

“I am sure you understand - I cannot teach you about magic,” he pointed out. “Not as another mage could, not in a way that could help you learn more about it. I do not know how to cast spells, only how to prevent them from being cast. What I can teach you about is mental focus and fortitude, as I was taught in the Templar Order.”

“So then - why make me cast?” Abby frowned as she questioned, trying to decipher the look in his eyes.

“I needed to see how you did so, what you struggle with, how well you control it,” he replied smoothly. “Otherwise I could not easily tell you how best to focus and overcome what may be standing in your way when it comes to the Fade.”

“That’s - weirdly brilliant,” Abby conceded. “All right, Mr. Miyagi - teach me your ways.”

Cullen frowned at her, still clearly confused by the joke. But it was as if he wanted to know what it meant, as if he wanted to be in on it. After a moment he shrugged and gestured her to the open space in the snow nearby. “If you have been struggling in the Fade, I feel it only right to ask - which demons visit you?”

“I - is it weird of me to think that’s kind of a personal question?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she felt her cheeks heat. If she talked about Desire, would he assume it was about Rylen? Or something more insidious like a desire for power? If she mentioned Terror and Despair making recent appearances, would he think her a danger, a coward unable to withstand Thedas or the Fade?

“I cannot help you if you do not tell me what you are facing,” he pointed out calmly.

She hated that he made so much sense. Arching her neck with a groan she placed her hands on her hips and took a moment. “Fine,” she sighed. “I - at first it was Desire. It tried to tempt me with my old life, with my - um, I’m guessing you’ve heard I was - am -  kind of, sort of - married? Anyway,” she straightened her head once more but glanced away from him, “now it’s - um. It depends. Varies. Some nights it’s still Desire, other nights it’s - Terror. Or Despair.”

She almost wanted to pray - maybe the Maker or Andraste would hear her? - that he didn’t ask her why Terror and Despair had begun to make their appearances in the Fade, why they had been drawn to her. That could lead down a dangerous road, and she needed to keep her wits sharp so that she didn’t accidentally slip and make him even more suspicious than he already was.

“Terror and Despair? How recently did this happen?” he questioned, and she cringed internally.

Guess no one heard her.

“Um, I guess - maybe since they - I mean, Rylen and Evelyn - have been gone,” she answered hesitantly. “I must be worried about them is all.”

Cullen considered her for another moment before he frowned. “Is that what you face in the Fade? They torment you that something could happen to them?”

“Yes,” she answered, almost too quickly, and she worried for a moment that he’d noticed.

He pursed his lips slightly, shifting his weight as one hand tightened on his pommel and the other ran absently through his hair. “Well, Abby,” he finally said, “how do you go to sleep?”

“Um, is this a trick question?” she asked.

“No,” he told her simply.

“I - lay down and pass out. I’m usually exhausted and - maybe a little drunk, from work,” she confessed softly.

“I see,” he commented, but there was surprisingly no judgment in his tone. “No preparation, no -”

“What, you want to know if I - meditate before bed?” she interrupted before she could stop herself. “I’m usually exhausted, Flissa and I work from dawn until well past midnight or whatever you call it here -”

“Midnight,” he quipped dryly, and then he chuckled at the scowl she gave him. “I am simply inquiring about your state of mind when you fall asleep, Abby. I am not - spying for something to tell Rylen or anything of that nature -”

“Fuck’s sake,” Abby muttered, dragging a hand along her brow. “Then just - carry on, I guess.”

“The Herald has spoken with you about how to deal with inhabitants once in the Fade, correct?” At her nod he continued. “Have you spoken about how to clear your mind before falling asleep?”

“Um - some?” she told him. “But it’s easier said than done, I mean -”

“It takes practice -”

“Fucking Christ, I’m trying, all right?” Abby snapped. Her nerves were frayed, stomach doing somersaults as her heart raced, wondering at what point he was going to say something that tripped her up and made her confess she knew more than she was letting on. Instead she likely made things worse with her reaction.

Cullen’s eyebrows rose as he regarded her, and then he frowned sharply. “Is there more to it?”

“No, I’m just - not used to having to meditate so that I don’t have insanely realistic night terrors that - oh wait, are actually happening, all right?” she told him, gesturing her hands helplessly to the side.

For several moments Cullen simply stared at her, frowning and stern, silent. But then he shifted once more on his feet and glanced to the side. “The Herald assured me you were doing well - was she lying?”

Abby swallowed hard, reaching to grip the strap of her purse in an attempt to hide the way her fingers were shaking. “I’m - doing as well as I can, and I - didn’t want Evelyn to worry about me,” she confessed softly. Giving him a piece of the truth had to help, didn’t it?

“Are you telling me that you have hidden things from her?” he asked, turning a frown to her. “Or have you simply convinced her you are harmless?”

“I - what?” she stuttered.

His frown sharpened and he took a step forward, hands still resting on the pommel of his sword. “The Herald is an impressionable, young woman. I would like to believe that her trust is not misplaced, and considering my Second also believes you trustworthy,” he trailed off and considered her for a moment. “However, I cannot help but be - hesitant. You fell out of a rift with the Herald, claiming not to know of our world, and yet the Herald of Andraste and the Second in Command of the Inquisition’s forces seem quite attached to you, rather suddenly.”

“I’m just lovable,” Abby gritted out, tightening her grip on her purse once more.

Cullen quirked an eyebrow at her. “Yes, clearly,” he mused. “Or perhaps you are - more than what you have told us. You seemed to settle into the shock and life here quicker than I would expect someone with no knowledge of this place.”

Abby’s heart thumped in her chest, and she pressed her lips together. With a shrug she glanced away, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m just trying to survive -”

“By latching onto the Herald? After walking out of the Fade with her? You knew her name, but she could not recall anything about you,” he pointed out. His voice was still even, but that was almost more terrifying than if he had yelled at her. His calmness set her even more on edge. “It was curious. And then suddenly she had an idea to take my Second with her to Val Royeaux, quite out of the blue. Just after you began a relationship with him -”

“Did you mean to help me or are you just here to accuse me of something?” Abby snapped, finally unable to resist. She was shaking like a leaf, wishing she had stayed in the tavern. There were recruits nearby, others around - but she doubted any would come to her rescue if he decided to act.

“You have been dodgy since I met you -”

“You imprisoned me and almost starved me -”

“You walked out of the Fade and claimed not to know you were a mage -”

“That was the truth!” she cried, swiping a hand before her to emphasize as she glared at him.

“And yet now,” he continued, taking another step forward, “two important people seem influenced by you. Demons visit you in the Fade, and you say you struggle to understand and resist them. Plans have changed since you became involved with the Herald - and I cannot help but wonder what voices she has whispering in her ear.”

Abby’s eyes widened as his words sank in. She had meant to save lives, to rescue Barris and the other doubting Templars. It had been a risk, she knew it - but she had hoped the worst she had to deal with was Evelyn being angry, or losing Rylen.

Not staring into amber eyes fixed on hers while he rested his hands on his sword. Would he give her a chance to explain?

He was so much larger than her, and she didn’t like the look of his armor, or the way everything about him put him severely at an advantage over her. And how did Templar abilities work? He was off lyrium - what could he do to stop her magic?

Panic was rising and beginning to block her mind, until everything sounded as if it was coming to her from far away, or through molasses. Taking a few deep breaths she tried to refocus, to figure out what on Earth - Thedas - whatever - she could do to reassure him.

Through the fog of her panic the realization came to her, and she instantly wished it hadn’t.

Fuck - this was going to get dicey.

Glaring up at Cullen, she squared her shoulders and thought fast, trying to find the perfect words. “You don’t suspect her of being the one behind it all?” she challenged.

“The Herald was put through thorough questioning, she has proven herself to be a - gentle, sheltered soul,” he answered, and he cleared his throat. “But you are an unknown.”

“Or just the perfect target of your paranoia,” she pointed out. “What’s the matter, still angry to see mages walking free?”

He turned a sharp frown on her, and the leather of his gloves creaked as again his fingers flexed and tightened on the pommel of his sword. “What are you -”

“I work in the tavern, I hear plenty,” she gritted out. “Like how the Commander feels about mages, about things he’s done -”

“That is not -”

“Ooh, struck a nerve, did I?” she sneered. But despite the firm tone of her voice her heart raced, and she braced her feet apart. “You look at me, you look at the Herald and all you see is a threat. You didn’t intend to help me with the Fade, you intended to root out an imaginary demon -”

“I have every cause to be suspicious,” he interrupted, his voice coming out as a low growl. “You appear out of nowhere, you make no sense - and you have somehow insinuated yourself into the confidence of the Herald of Andraste, and my Second, a Templar. Demons are everywhere, the Veil is thin - it is not so far-fetched to think perhaps one has found you. Or that you sought them out. I cannot trust anything you say -”

“Because you don’t know me,” Abby told him. She straightened her shoulders, trying to hold her chin up. “Are you scared of _me_ , a tiny little thing like me? It would be easy, if I was an abomination, if I’d accepted a demon. You could find out, if you weren’t so scared -”

“I -” he began, but he trailed off. They glared at one another, and he seemed to be considering her, eyes wandering over her smaller figure. “I am not scared of you.”

“Then why don’t you just go ahead and discover the truth?” she challenged, narrowing her eyes. There was a way, and again she tried to steady herself and not turn and run back into the village. This needed to be settled, and she drew on what she remembered -

Dragon Age 2, wasn’t it? With the Templar recruit who had gone missing…

Was it Kerran? Karras?

She couldn’t recall, and it didn’t really matter. But she tried to distract herself doing so, in an attempt to stay brave as her gaze wandered over his large, gloved hands.

“You know there’s an easy way, but you haven’t done it - are you scared of finding out you’re right, and having to face that? Or are you -”

“I told you I am not scared,” he interrupted, and his cheeks flexed. “If I wanted to -”

“So do it,” she demanded, her voice louder as she glared up at him. She stood tall, proud, feet braced in the snow. “Stop being so damned scared of what I could be and just find out for yourself -”

The hit caught her off guard even though she had been trying to steady herself for it. No one had ever struck her before, though she had punched or elbowed a few overeager patrons or dates who hadn’t taken no for an answer before.

But being on the receiving end of the Commander’s fist to her stomach was a feeling she couldn’t prepare herself for at all. She couldn’t even fully get out a curse as it happened.

She simply crumpled, spluttering and coughing, trying to hold in the contents of her stomach as she clutched it with a hand.

“I - Maker’s breath - are you - are you all right?”

“Fuck - ow - ow that hurt - fucking _Christ_ that hurt,” she gasped, tears welling in her eyes.

“Abby, I - I am so sorry, I -”

She felt strong fingers on her shoulders, saw armored knees in the snow before her. But her vision was blurry, her senses reeling. Finally a huff of laughter left her between groans of pain. “Well - at least now you know,” she muttered.

A chuckle escaped him as he continued trying to steady her in the snow. “I suppose - yes, now I know,” he told her. “I am - sorry I doubted. You really are as you seem, just a - stranger to this land and the ways of magic.”

“It’s fine, I - get it,” she groaned. “I’d be suspicious of me too, if I were you. Shit’s kind of weird around here.”

“Can you - heal yourself? I’ll take you to Adan, get you elfroot -”

“Fuck - you should teach me how to punch that hard sometime, Mr. Miyagi,” she told him. She let him help her to her feet, but she still hunched over, one arm wrapped across her aching stomach.

“I - gladly,” he agreed, still holding her arm and her shoulder as if worried she would fall over any minute.

“So - is this the part where we go back to talking about the Fade, or -”

“I - I think that was enough for today, we can - continue this tomorrow, perhaps,” he told her. There was so much hesitation in his voice, care and concern laced in every word now.

Now that he knew she was just an unlucky human and not a demon waiting to strike.

“Yeah let’s - wait and see if I’m able to move at all,” she grumbled. “I mean, worth it, really - preferable to death, for sure. But - ow.”

“I am - truly sorry,” he assured her. “And I - I hope you do not - um -”

“Don’t tell Rylen?” she mused, glancing up at him to see the mortified, worried frown he was giving her.

“Ah - that would be - best, I think,” he agreed, and he smirked. “And the Herald, as well. Promises were made, promises to - keep an eye on you. I am not certain those promises included -”

“Gut punching me?” she finished for him with a wry smile. “Secret’s safe with me. So long as we’re - good?”

He held her gaze before a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, we are - good,” he told her.

They stared at one another for a moment, and all Abby could think was that an odd sort of trust blossomed where suspicion had been before, and it brought a smile to her face.

A smile he readily returned.


	14. Questions But No Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about tacking this scene onto the end of last chapter, but then I worried the chapter was too long. Now I'm worried this is too short.
> 
> Whomp whomp. The struggle is real. But anyway, enjoy! xx

It didn’t make sense.

They were halfway back to Haven, now, with more traveling companions than they had started with. Val Royeaux had him feeling batty, recalling his desperate pleas to fellow Templars to stop their madness. The fact that he had managed to convince a few of them still surprised him, and as he sat in front of the fire at camp he looked over at the small cluster of Templars.

They all looked almost shocked, still, as if the events of Val Royeaux weighed heavily on their minds as it did his. He knew the Order had made decisions he couldn’t ever agree with, but the Lord Seeker’s actions - something had been wrong.

He looked instead over at where the Herald sat not far from the First Enchanter and elf who had joined them, listening to Varric tell a tale about the Champion. She had avoided Rylen since they had left Val Royeaux, though she had told him she approved of his actions and his words. Something had been off, though, something just slightly disquieted in her manner when she had looked over the few Templars who walked away from their leader.

Now he caught her looking their way with a curious quirk to her brows, and he decided he couldn’t shake the feeling any longer. He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hands on his breeches as he walked across the camp. When he stopped beside her she looked up to see who it was, and if he wasn’t mistaken she almost seemed cagey as her gaze met his.

“Can - can I help you, Captain?” she asked.

“Aye, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time, Herald?” he requested, gesturing slightly away from the camp.

“Of course,” she murmured, but as she pushed herself to her feet she fidgeted with the bottom of her long braid.

Rylen frowned, leading her somewhere they wouldn’t be overheard before he turned back to face her. She was tugging one full lip between her teeth, but otherwise stood patiently waiting for him to speak.

“I - I was curious, Herald, about Val Royeaux,” he began slowly, noticing the way she pressed her lips firmly together at the words. “Something’s been bothering me.”

“Yes, it was all quite troubling,” she said softly.

“Aye, but also - you didn’t seem entirely surprised by all of it,” he pointed out, carefully watching her.

“I’m merely getting better at guarding my reactions,” she asserted, raising her nose slightly in the air.

He quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms as he watched her continue to fidget with her braid and chew her lip. “Oh, is that so? Since you seem to be rather nervous, at the moment,” he observed.

Immediately she dropped her hands to her sides, eyes wide as if she’d been found out. “Um -”

“I’m simply trying to make sense of things, Herald,” he assured her. “Surely you can understand how distressing it was to see my former fellows acting that way.”

“Of - of course,” she agreed quickly. “But I don’t know what insight I might provide, Captain.”

Rylen narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully for a moment. He rubbed his chin with his fingers as he considered. “What led to you insisting I be present to address the clerics?” he asked, deciding to just be blunt.

The Herald avoided his gaze, crossing her arms before herself. “I - thought it prudent to have a Templar beside me, someone who remained loyal -”

“Herald,” he interrupted firmly, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “There had to be more to it than that. It was sudden, and I’m not one for pretty words or high and mighties. Why me?”

“Umm,” she hummed as if giving herself more time to think. “Cullen trusts you -”

“Damn it, lass, I’m simply trying to understand,” he gritted out, dragging a hand down his chin.

Finally she heaved a sigh, looking down at her feet and scuffing one of her boots in the dirt as she contemplated the ground. After several long moments she raised her gaze to his once more, a troubled look in her pale eyes. “Abby,” she murmured softly.

A sharp scowl came across his face and he stepped closer, trying to make sense of what she had said. “Ab-Abigail? She insisted I come? Was she - trying to get away from me? Or - I - why would the lass ask you to bring me along? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“She made me promise not to tell anyone,” the Herald told him. “And she wasn’t trying to send you away, she - she thought you would be the best for - for the job. She was right, you were marvelous, you - you convinced so many of them to join the Inquisition -”

“Wait,” he interrupted sharply, stepping forward once more as he glowered down at her. To her credit she merely craned her neck and held his gaze, seemingly undaunted by the harsh tone of his voice. “‘The best for the job’ - what job?”

“S-saving some of the Templars,” she answered in a rushed whisper. “She told me we had a chance to save some men, that she thought we might run into some Templars but they might be convinced to join us -”

“She knew?” he demanded, and he watched as she slowly nodded her head. His mind reeled, thoughts racing through it until he couldn’t focus on a single one. “H-how? She said she’s not of this world -”

“I intend to ask her when I get back,” the Herald said, and there was a resolute gleam in her eye.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “She asked me to trust her, and said she would explain it all to me if she ended up being correct.”

“But by then, she could be gone,” Rylen gritted out, frustration coursing through him. A sudden urge to be back at Haven as quickly as possible came over him, the wish to make certain Abigail hadn’t taken the chance to flee while they were gone.

But how had she known?

“I don’t think it was malicious,” the Herald commented suddenly. “She told me she wanted to help, to save lives. She told me she was doing it for the Inquisition.”

“Aye, that’s what she said, but -”

“I plan on giving her the benefit of the doubt until I discover how she knew what would happen in Val Royeaux,” the Herald interrupted. “She has given me no reason to think otherwise -”

“She lied to you! To both of us -” he protested, gesturing a hand.

“Did she?” the Herald challenged, raising one graceful eyebrow at him. “She has told us before she was not of this land. But did either of us truly press her for more details about anything? She told us magic was strange to her, but she never specified if she knew of it. I will reserve judgment - and if you care for her as she seems to think you do, you will as well.”

The meager light made her pale eyes almost look entirely white around wide pupils - if not for the dark line encircling the irises he would have thought she didn’t have any. The effect did little to help him steady himself as she gave him a withering glare to accompany the chastisement. For such a wee thing, she held a steadfast resolve within her that surprised him. He took in the way she seemed to be demanding he do as she say, the slight purse of her lips and set of her jaw as she glared up at him.

Maybe she was right. Perhaps Abigail had been trying to help, even though it was still concerning that she likely knew more than she had let on. He didn’t know how, didn’t know what else she might know, but he realized the Herald was right. Until he had a chance to ask her, it was best not to jump to conclusions.

Abigail deserved that much.

The image of her laying beneath him, a soft look in her eyes as he moved between her thighs swam to the front of his mind, and he sighed as he looked out over the camp. The Templars were sitting together speaking quietly, smiling and laughing finally. Did they know they had been saved from what seemed a worse fate, especially if Abigail had described it as saving their lives? Barris, the one he had spoken with the most, was staring into the fire pensively, but when another of the Templars addressed him a wide smile came to his face.

She may have hidden things from him, but it was as the Herald said - he couldn’t see any ill intent behind it. When he returned, he’d ask her, have her explain it all to him so that he could understand. Maybe she’d trust him with more about her past as well, more about where she was from and how she had known what to do in Val Royeaux.

In the meantime, he should send a raven to the Commander and request that he check on her to make certain she was all right - though he wouldn’t tell him his concern was that she might flee.


	15. So Long and Lost, Are You Missing Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and mood music brought to you courtesy of ["Long & Lost" by Florence + the Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BggSD5t654k).

It wasn’t until the tavern went suddenly still that Abby glanced to the side to see what had distracted all of her patrons. Sera was walking into the tavern, a lazy grin on her face as she looked over the crowd before she moved to a corner and threw herself into a chair. Behind her, though, was what had caught everyone’s attention.

Evelyn stopped just inside the doorway, looking over the abruptly silent common room with wide eyes. She put her shoulders back, raising her head ever so slightly as she turned, walking through the crowded tavern as if she wasn’t bothered by the stares that followed her as she approached the bar.

“Abby,” she greeted firmly when she stopped before her.

“You’re - you’re back,” Abby stuttered out. “I wasn’t expecting you yet, Cullen said a few more days -”

“We made good time,” Evelyn told her.

“Oh good,” Abby said, trying to keep her voice steady. She gripped the rag in her hand in an attempt to hide the way her fingers were trembling. “Need - need a drink or -”

“I was wondering if I might speak with you,” Evelyn interrupted. “Privately.”

“Um - we’re - we’re slammed, I can’t leave Flissa, she -”

“Oh Maker - you’re her!” Flissa exclaimed breathlessly from where she had stopped next to Abby. “You’re the - the Herald! Is there anything we can help you with, my lady?”

Evelyn turned her pale eyes to Flissa, and Abby could have sworn that Flissa shivered beside her. “I need to borrow Abby, if you don’t mind,” she answered.

“It’s - Flissa, I was telling her we’re so busy -” Abby began to protest, but Flissa snatched the rag Abby held and put a hand on her back.

“Of course, my lady Herald, not a problem,” Flissa told her, encouraging Abby around the bar with a small shove. “Take all the time you need, I’ve got everything under control here.”

Heaving a sigh of resignation, Abby crossed to the door of the tavern, listening to Evelyn’s quick steps behind her. She was still wearing her armor, the black tendrils of hair around her face looking windswept, as if they were loose from her long braid from the ride back. It made Abby wonder if Evelyn had come to the tavern immediately to see her, instead of taking a long bath as she normally did upon her return.

As they left the tavern together, Abby realized the reason for Evelyn’s insistence. Walking up the steps from the main gate was a cluster of Templars, and at the head of them Delrin Barris was speaking with Rylen. When Rylen glanced over and saw them walking along the path, he excused himself with a nod to Barris and hurried over.

“Not now, Captain,” Evelyn told him before he could get out a word. “I have important business with Abby.”

“Aye, I was hoping I might -” he began, but Evelyn shot him a piercing look and he fell silent.

“Later,” was all Evelyn said to him, and she gestured Abby to follow her as she continued down the path.

Abby looked at Rylen for only a moment, trying to decipher the look he was giving her before she pressed her lips together and hurried after the Herald. When she caught up she glanced sidelong at her, noticing the determined gleam in her eye. “Listen, Evelyn, I -”

“Wait until we’re back in our cabin,” Evelyn interrupted.

“Oh, so you’re not dragging me off to Leliana or a War Council or something?” Abby asked, feeling a tiny portion of the nerves she felt slip away.

“Not yet,” Evelyn answered. “I want to give you a chance to tell me the truth before I decide what to do.”

They reached their cabin before Abby could respond, and once inside Evelyn closed and locked the door behind them. Despite herself, Abby gulped and folded her arms as she watched Evelyn begin to move around the small room, taking off the long leather duster she wore.

“So - looks like - Val Royeaux went well?” Abby began, unable to stand the silence.

Evelyn shot her a curious glance, and after she hung the duster over the back of the chair before the desk she turned to face Abby. Her unusual eyes wandered over Abby’s face for a moment, and then she nodded slightly to herself before she took a deep breath. “Well. I kept up my end of the bargain, I’d say it’s time for you to keep up yours.”

Abby heaved a sigh and crossed the room to her cot so that she could sit down. Gripping the edge tight with her fingers, she stared at her feet for a moment before she raised her gaze once more. “I thought I’d have more time, you’re back early,” she muttered.

“More time? More time for what, to come up with a tale to spin for me?” Evelyn challenged. “The truth will do, Abby. It’s why I didn’t allow the Captain in here while we spoke. I thought perhaps you would be more forthcoming if it was just me.”

“The - shit, he knows?” Abby asked, feeling her insides twist at the prospect. No wonder he had been looking at her that way.

“Yes,” Evelyn answered with a small nod. “He’s a smart man, Abby. He was more than a little suspicious of me and how I might have had the foresight to bring along a Templar to face the clerics, only to be greeted by the Lord Seeker himself, accompanied by a group of Templars.”

Abby buried her face in her hands, her mind racing. She hadn’t thought this far ahead when she’d offered the information to Evelyn. It was a spontaneous decision, and she’d been regretting it ever since.

“Are you a spirit?” Evelyn asked suddenly.

“A - what?” Abby looked up and frowned at the other woman.

“I met you in the Fade, and now you’ve had knowledge of things you shouldn’t have,” Evelyn mused slowly. “Are you a spirit, perhaps? Should I have left you in the Fade, instead of insisting you come with me?”

“I - no, I’m not - I’m not a spirit, I’m - I’m human,” Abby stuttered. “I’m - as I seem. A woman from another world who has no idea how she got here, or ended up with magic when she did. I - maybe I should start at the beginning.”

“That would be appreciated,” Evelyn told her, and she moved to stand before Abby as she waited for her to begin speaking.

“Okay, so - on Earth, there’s these - stories. They’re about Thedas, but - we all thought they weren’t real,” she began hesitantly.

She watched as Evelyn’s eyebrows furrowed into a frown, and she began pacing, arms folded in front of herself. With one delicate finger she began to trace her lips, as if lost in thought. “So these stories, about Thedas - you knew them? Where did they come from if you didn’t think Thedas was real?”

“A - storyteller,” Abby answered with a shrug. She decided not to complicate things by explaining they were a game - story was going to be hard enough to explain. “I don’t know. They were just something that someone made up, or at least that’s how it seemed. A - fantasy about another world, with magic and dragons and heroes, which we didn’t have.”

“Like a bard would tell? Were they a - history?” Evelyn asked.

“No, they were - made up. Or so we thought. I thought,” she said, sighing and chewing a thumb for a moment as she considered. “Anyway, I - I knew the stories. About the Hero of Ferelden, and the Champion of Kirkwall, and - the Herald of Andraste.”

“Me?” Evelyn’s eyebrows rose and for a moment she halted in her pacing.

“They weren’t specific,” Abby told her with a small shrug. “So people sort of - came up with their own idea of what they were like. But you - you remind me of the one I imagined.”

Evelyn stared at her for a moment, still tracing one finger over her full lower lip before she resumed her pacing. “Is that - you knew my name, when I came to visit you after I woke up.”

“Yes,” Abby confessed. “I - took a shot, figured I already knew who you were.”

Evelyn nodded as she paced, looking lost in thought as if things were beginning to make sense to her. She gestured for Abby to continue.

“Anyway, so I knew these stories, but they were just that to me. And I - well, the night I ended up here, I,” she hesitated, thinking back to that night. She shook her head, trying to remember the fuzzy details. “I had just been served my divorce papers - oh, um, notified my husband was trying to dissolve our marriage? And I kind of - went on a bender. I was upset, I -”

“A bender?”

“I drank too much,” Abby explained with a sigh. “Danced on a table, got a little crazy. It was half-celebration, half ‘what the fuck am I going to do now.’ I wasn’t in a good place, emotionally.”

“I see,” Evelyn murmured.

“When I left the ba - tavern, I heard - screams,” Abby told her. “But they sounded like they were coming from far away. I thought someone was in trouble, I started looking around but didn’t see anyone else nearby. There was this green light, but I thought it was a neon sign - er, a lit up sign - anyway. I headed toward it, but I think - I think I tripped? I’m not sure, that part is fuzzy.”

“Let me get this straight,” Evelyn said slowly, still pacing and fidgeting with her lips. “You were - drinking, and you heard screams? Whose screams? And you saw a ne-on light sign? And tripped? How did you end up in the Fade, then?”

“I have no idea,” Abby answered, holding her hands out in front of her. “The screams were - echoing so weirdly. But you know, I think - I think they were yours. They sounded like maybe - maybe they could have been.”

“My screams?” Evelyn repeated, stopping and staring at Abby. “In your world? I wonder how that could be..” She trailed off and pursed her lips, staring pensively straight ahead of her.

“I wish I knew,” Abby agreed with yet another sigh. “Like I said, I tripped or something near the green light and the next thing I knew, I,” she took a deep breath, “I woke up in the Fade.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened and her hands lowered to her side. “You told me you didn’t remember anything from the Fade.”

“Yeah, well, I lied! Of course I lied!” Abby exclaimed, gesturing a hand as she said it. “I had no idea what to do, for all I knew you were all going to kill me or think me responsible, or a demon, or -”

“Abby, do you understand how much it might have helped to tell me the truth?” Evelyn interrupted loudly. “If you had told me that we met in the Fade and you remember what happened? If you had told Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast and Cull - the Commander?”

“Like they would have believed me! Like you would have believed me!” Abby countered, standing up and throwing her arms out to her sides in frustration.

“Abby,” Evelyn said sternly, facing her straight on and putting her hands on her hips. “There is a literal _tear_ in the Veil. I have a glowing _mark_ ,” she held it up between them, “on my hand with no recollection how it got there. People _died_ and are still dying. Demons are pouring out of the sky all over Thedas. Do you think it would be that much of a stretch for me to believe that perhaps this all exists as a story in another world?”

“I - I thought maybe you’d think I’d been responsible, or that I - was just making shit up,” Abby confessed.

Evelyn rolled her eyes and shook her head. “After all the other - sh-shit I’ve seen,” she said, shooting a slightly timid look at Abby after she did, “it’s not that hard to believe. What’s one more odd occurrence in my life now?”

Abby stared at her for a moment before she let out a few laughs. “I suppose I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” she murmured.

“So, then you’ll tell me?” Evelyn prompted.

“Tell you - what? Like, everything?” Abby’s eyes widened at the prospect, and for a moment she stared speechless at Evelyn. “I - I shouldn’t -”

“But you said you know the story, and you remember the Fade. You were right about Val Royeaux. Please, Abby - memories are missing and I don’t know what happened to me,” Evelyn pleaded.

“Yeah, but - there’s a certain way things are supposed to happen, a certain way this all unfolds,” Abby protested. “I shouldn’t have told you about Val Royeaux, I just - did it impulsively. But that wasn’t supposed to happen, I mean - who knows what I fucked up by telling you about that?”

“You saved their lives, though -”

“And in exchange did I end up killing hundreds more? I - Evelyn, that wasn’t supposed to happen, and who knows what I changed by doing it,” Abby insisted. “Please, _please_ don’t ask me to tell you. I don’t want the Inquisition to fail, and if you - if you just follow your heart, you’ll succeed. I know you will. It’s your journey, and you - you need to live it, I can’t just tell you how it unfolds.”

Mentally Abby cringed, grimacing slightly as she wondered at what point she had turned into such a goddamned cheerleader. But Evelyn was studying her with her lips pursed, hands still resting on her hips as she thought. Finally she heaved a deep sigh and rubbed one hand across her brow.

“All right, Abby,” Evelyn acquiesced. “I’ll trust you. And I won’t - spread it around that you know. I may understand why you won’t tell me, but that might not stop Sister Nightingale from trying to learn more if she knew.”

Abby gulped and nodded, not thrilled by that prospect. “Thank you, Evelyn. I appreciate it. I - I promise I’m not hiding anything for nefarious reasons, just - trying to prevent ruining everything.”

“I understand,” Evelyn told her, nodding her head. She looked away from Abby, seeming to be considering something. “Well, I have - I’d like to take a bath, and then I need to go to the War Council. I made them delay it, but - didn’t tell them why.”

“I should get back to work,” Abby said, smiling timidly at the other woman before she turned to walk away.

“Not to speak with the Captain?” Evelyn mused.

“Um - I - I can do that later,” Abby muttered. “Need to get back to help Flissa -”

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Evelyn pointed out.

“I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t told him,” Abby said, shooting a frown over her shoulder as she reached the door to the cabin.

“Were you ever going to tell him?”

“I’m - not sure. I didn’t know how,” Abby confessed softly.

“Because you knew him too, didn’t you?” Evelyn observed, one graceful eyebrow arched as her piercing gaze wandered over Abby’s face. She sighed and shook her head, looking away. “I think he’d rather hear it all from you. You owe him that much.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Abby gritted out, and with that she left the cabin.

Hurrying across Haven she looked around, trying to keep an eye out for an armored giant as she made her way back to the tavern. As soon as she rounded the corner to enter the tavern, though, she stopped in her tracks.

“There you are, lass,” he greeted her, pushing himself away from where he had been waiting beside the door. “Might I have a word?”

“I - should get back to work -” she stuttered, but he took her by the hand and began to lead her across the village toward his tent. “Wait - R-Rylen, I -”

“Not here,” he gritted out. When she caught a glimpse of his face she felt her insides twist, heart racing uncomfortably fast as she tried to think what she could possibly tell him.

Once through the flaps of the tent he released her wrist and turned to face her, standing so that he blocked the entrance as he folded his arms and glared at her.

“I - Rylen, I can explain -” she began.

“Aye, I intend for you to,” he told her. He continued glaring at her for a moment before he looked away and reached up with a hand to rub his chin. “Damn it, lass - did you think I wasn’t trustworthy?”

“I - what?” she blurted out, frowning at him. This wasn’t exactly the response she had expected, and the hurt look on his face was making her insides twist even more with everything she was feeling.

“I could tell there had to be more to you than you were letting on, otherwise why would you be so damned cagey all the time?” he said, shooting her a pointed look. “As soon as the Herald told me you knew it all began to fall into place - you know about our world, you’re just not of it. But Maker, lass, I wish you had trusted you could tell me yourself.”

“You - you aren’t mad I knew? You’re just mad I didn’t tell you?” she asked, staring at him with wide eyes. “I - Jesus, do you all just accept such weird shit this easily all the time? ‘Oh some lass from another world showed up, she knows all about this, la la la,’ like it’s no big deal?”

Rylen shrugged. “Not the strangest thing I’ve ever seen or heard,” he pointed out. “But I would have thought, once we were together -”

“We’re not,” she interrupted, swiping a hand in front of herself to emphasize the point. “That’s not what we agreed -”

“Fine, how about ‘after I made love to you?’” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he said it. He shook his head as he stared at her, looking almost incredulous. “Maker’s bloody balls, Abigail - I told you it meant more to me than that, and I thought maybe you were beginning to think so as well. And how hard was it to tell me why I was being sent to Val Royeaux?”

“It - it was better if you didn’t know -”

“Was it?” he challenged. “Or were you just being a blasted coward? Thought you could send me away and not have to deal with what you might be feeling?”

Her jaw dropped and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She wouldn’t let him see her cry, wouldn’t let him know that she did care. That she had missed him, had reread the one letter he had sent her again and again, that it was currently tucked into her pocket so that she always had it with her.

“That’s not - that’s not why,” she told him, trying to keep her voice steady. “I was trying to do the right thing -”

“By sending me in blind?” he demanded harshly. “And what if I hadn’t been able to do it? What if you not telling me meant that I failed anyway?”

“You - you didn’t though -”

“But I could have,” he pointed out. “You were just trying to cover your sorry arse by not telling me -”

“Excuse me if this is all new and absolutely terrifying for me!” she yelled, finally reaching her limit. “I thought this was a fantasy and now somehow I’m fucking stuck here! Can you imagine? Can you possibly think for a moment that I’m just trying to survive? That I’m struggling to come to terms? And then in a moment of weakness I fucked myself by letting slip something I knew -”

“A moment of weakness? Trying to save lives was a moment of weakness for you?” he interrupted, frowning as he shook his head at her. “What kind of a callous, batty world are you from that you consider that a weakness?”

“What do you want from me?” she cried, her voice still continuing to rise in volume. “I’m _terrified_ , every fucking moment that I’m here. I fell into a world I didn’t think actually existed with magic in my veins and death waiting around every corner. I’m trying my best, and honestly - you’re - you’re not helping.”

“I’m - lass, all I’ve tried to do is help you,” he countered, and there was a strain in his voice as if her words had wounded him. “I care about you, Abigail. A great deal. Lass, I -”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted loudly, hating the pleading tone of her voice. “Don’t - please, don’t fucking say it.”

He stared at her, a pained frown on his face as his gaze wandered over her. “Abigail, of everything here, you don’t have to be scared of me. I - I’m not mad you didn’t tell me everything, I was just - hurt you didn’t think you could trust me with it. But please, let me - let me take care of you -”

“I don’t need you to!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, taking a step back and struggling to keep her tears in and her magic in check. She hadn’t been this angry since coming to Thedas, but now she could feel it like a surge, rising just beneath the surface. Taking a deep breath she looked away from him, waiting until she had taken another deep breath before she tried to speak. “This was a mistake. This was all a mistake. I just - I just need to focus on surviving, and living. I can’t - I _can’t_ -”

“Abigail -”

“Please don’t,” she breathed, clenching her eyes shut. “Please just let me go. I’m sorry I lied to you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry about this, too. You can hate me, it’s all right. I’ll understand.”

When she looked back up at him the look on his face tore through her, an ache beginning in her chest as self-loathing took root deeper within her. “Lass, just talk to me -”

“I said no,” she snapped. “Let me go. I have - I have work to do, and you do too.”

He continued to stand in the way simply staring at her as if dumbfounded, but she decided she couldn’t stand waiting any longer, looking at the pain reflected in his eyes. She took several steps forward and pushed past him, ignoring the way he called after her, imploring her to stay.

Without turning back she hurried away from his tent, hardly paying attention to where she was going. All that mattered was that she get far enough away from him so that he couldn’t hear the sound of her sobs.


	16. Elfroot for the Soul (and Other Aches and Pains)

“Bobert! Petyr! You’re going to be late for your patrol if you don’t step to!” he barked, glaring at the two recruits slowly sauntering nearby. At his address they both jumped and turned wide eyes to him, and then quickly scurried down the path toward the main gate.

Rylen stared after them, dragging a hand down his chin, hitting the helmet dangling from his other hand against his thigh. He looked at the tavern, considering going in to see her before he went to the Command tent. It had been a few days, maybe they had both calmed down, maybe she would speak with him, now. As much as it had pained him he had given her space, hoping that she would come around and they could talk things through. But he grumbled under his breath and turned, intending to simply attend to his duties.

Until something caught his eye and changed his mind.

Standing in the shadowy corner outside the tavern, a thin white stick held between two fingers, was Abigail. And it almost looked like her shoulders were shaking as she brushed at one of her cheeks.

His heart ached at the sight and he hurried forward. There was a fragrant woody and herbal smoke coming from the white stick, which he realized he recognized from holding her in his arms. She was inhaling deeply from it as if she was trying to use it to quiet her tears.

“Lass, what are you doing out here?” he asked as he got closer.

“Shit!” she cried, glancing up at him, her cheeks glistening with the tears that were streaming from her eyes. She threw the white stick away from her and began to wipe furiously at her cheeks. Without another word she spun away from him as if she intended to hurry away.

“Wait, Abigail -”

“I - I n-need to be - working, C-Captain -” she sobbed with her back still to him.

“Abigail, stop - you’re crying, I - I don’t like seeing you like this,” he told her. He reached out for her arms and turned her back to face him. “Tell me what’s wrong, what can I do -”

“Oh god don’t touch me,” she muttered, cringing away from his touch. But the way she did it almost seemed like it had caused her pain.

“Are you - are you injured? What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning down at her.

“No, I’m just - ugh my skin is crawling, and I - I can’t stop crying, and my stomach is trying to murder me, and I j-just wanted to have a cigarette alone,” her voice cracked with more sobs. “It’s j-just a shitty day, I -”

“What happened, lass? Are you ill?” He reached with a hand and placed it on her forehead, but she didn’t feel any warmer than normal.

“No, just - the usual,” she muttered forlornly, wiping at her cheeks again.

“The - usual?” he repeated, at a loss.

She looked up at him, her scowl somehow managing to look incredulous, threatening, and pitiful all at once. “Do you men know nothing about women no matter where you’re from? Jesus fucking Christ it’s just like back on Earth, men too grossed out by periods they won’t even help their wife out to buy tampons when her uterus is trying to kill her.”

For a moment Rylen simply stared at her, trying to decipher some of the words she had said. And then something clicked. “Oh, lass, is it - your moon cycle?”

She simply glared up at him, but beneath the glare there almost seemed to be an appeal.

With a few barks of laughter, Rylen shook his head and held his hand out to her. “Come along, lass - let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m not - I’m not an invalid just because -” she began to protest, but he took her hand and shook his head.

“Come along, Flissa can manage for the rest of the night without you,” he assured her. “Maybe I’ll send someone to help her. But you can rest, put your feet up -”

“No, wait -”

“I’ll get you elfroot, get you sorted. Poor lass. I’m certain it’s just slipped anyone’s mind to help you figure out how to deal with this here,” he cooed. He pulled her to his side and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

To his surprise, she let out a soft whimper and snuggled into him.

He held her close and guided her to his tent, stopping beside the cot to help her sit on the edge of it. When he knelt before her to pull her boots off, he glanced up to see her watching him, sniffling slightly as she frowned. But seeing her this near again made his heart race - and she was actually letting him help her, letting him take care of her as he wanted to.

“You can borrow one of my shirts, lass,” he told her, looking back down at the laces he was untying to distract his wandering mind. “That way you’re not wearing those tight breeches.”

“I - you don’t,” she sighed, “thank you.”

He gave her a smile and stood to get one of his shirts out of the trunk. “Do you want some of my sleep trousers too, lass?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, please,” she grumbled, and when he turned to look at her he noticed a soft pout on her face, her shoulders slumped sightly. She looked positively defeated.

“Here,” he said, holding out the shirt and trousers for her. “I’ll get you tucked in and then go get some elfroot, and something to nibble on. Oh, that’s right.”

She accepted the clothes from him and watched him turn away with a frown. But he crossed to the small table in one corner of the tent and picked up the water skin resting there. It still had some water in it, and he took it over to her.

“You should be able to use your magic, heat this up,” he explained as he set it next to her. “That should help with the aches -”

“How the fuck do you know all this?” she blurted out, an incredulous frown on her face.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I have three older sisters,” he told her. “When I was a lad, once a month they were all just miserable and terrors to be around. My brother Eirick and I would leave out elfroot and cheese as offerings and then hide until they were done being batty.”

For a moment she simply stared at him, and then she burst into laughter, her whole body shaking until she bent over with an arm wrapped across her stomach. “Oh - ow - that didn’t help,” she groaned.

“Sorry, lass,” he said, patting her gently on the back. “Go on, get changed while I make certain I have enough blankets for you.”

She shot him another pitiful look before she finally began to tug her shirt out from how it was tucked into her breeches. Something about the fact that she didn’t hesitate to pull it off in front of him reassured him, making him think that they weren’t too far gone.

But when she sat up straight he felt his insides boil and he stepped forward, grabbing one of her arms to prevent her from pulling his shirt on.

“Lass - who did that to you?” he demanded. His eyes were fixated on the garishly green and blue bruise on her stomach, unable to look away. “Tell me who hurt you.”

“I - shit,” she gritted out, and she tried to pull her arm away from him. “It’s nothing, it’s fine -”

“It’s not nothing. Tell me. Right now. Who hurt you Abigail?” he barked.

“It was my fault, really -”

“No. Tell me -”

“ - Cullen and I were just -”

Rylen’s eyes narrowed at the name, and he immediately released her wrist and turned on his heel.

“Wait! Shit - fuck - Ry! Come back!”

He ignored her calls and charged out of the tent, his long strides carrying him to the entrance of the Command Tent before he heard her quick footsteps further behind him. When he flung the tent flaps open he only barely registered that no one was present except the Commander, but he wasn’t certain it would have mattered.

“What did you do to her?” he demanded as he crossed to the desk Cullen was standing hunched over.

The Commander looked up, frowning as he took in the glower Rylen was giving him. “Captain, is something -”

“Abigail. What did you do to her?” Rylen interrupted, stepping around the desk to try to close the distance between them.

“Oh,” Cullen said. He heaved a sigh and at least had the decency to look nervous. “She told you?”

“She didn’t have to - I saw the damage myself,” Rylen gritted out. He grabbed the other man’s mantle with a hand and pulled him closer as he snarled in his face. “What did you do to her?”

“Ry! Stop it - it’s not a big deal,” Abigail’s voice called, and he glanced to the side to see her standing just inside the tent flaps. She was glaring at him, hands on her hips, boots unlaced and shirt untucked from how she had hurried to catch up with him.

“Aye, it is. It’s my duty to protect you, and I asked him to watch after you in my stead. How exactly did that include wailing on her, eh, mate?” he growled.

“Rylen, my apologies,” Cullen told him.

“Apologies? You struck my lass and you think _my apologies_ makes it better?” he roared, pushing Cullen away as he released him.

“Ry!"

Cullen straightened and cleared his throat. “It was - a test.”

“A test?” Rylen repeated, shaking his head. “You bloody walloper, I asked you to look out for her, not _test_ her.”

“It was a - necessity. Besides, ask your lass, she demanded I do it,” Cullen countered. His voice was still even, but he was looking at Rylen as if he understood the anger being directed his way.

That did little to help Rylen calm himself.

“I don’t care if she asked you to! Andraste’s tits, mate. I trusted you!”

“Ry he’s right, I told him to do it,” Abigail protested behind him.

“I know you trusted me,” Cullen told him, holding his gaze. “I was - making certain I could trust her.”

“And your answer was to strike her?” Rylen demanded loudly, taking a few steps toward the other man once more.

“What else was I supposed to do? It was the easiest solution to make certain we hadn’t brought a maleficar into our midst,” Cullen pointed out, his voice finally rising. “You and the Herald are both so enamored with her, I had to consider the possibility she had you each in thrall.”

“Aye, that’s just like you, assuming there’s blood magic hiding in every corner,” Rylen jeered.

“Jesus Christ, Ry - can we please just -”

“It was necessary -” Cullen began, but his continued insistence that he was right finally pushed Rylen over the edge.

The Commander didn’t have time to react or block the blow, and Rylen’s fist caught him full on the jaw. The impact sent Cullen stumbling, and Rylen’s knuckles immediately ached in protest. Abigail let out a soft cry, and when he looked her way he saw her standing with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

But he looked back at where Cullen was straightening, rubbing his jaw with a hand before he raised his gaze to Rylen. For a long moment they just stared at one another, each breathing heavily, and then Cullen dropped his hand and nodded.

“Are we square?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Rylen flexed his fist for a moment before he nodded as well. “Aye, mate. We’re square.”

“Good,” Cullen said, and he tenderly touched his jaw again and winced. “Well, I was - about to retire but I suppose I should go find some elfroot first.”

Rylen smirked. “Bring some by my tent, if you would. The lass was in need of some as well.”

Cullen chuckled softly and nodded once more before he turned to cross the tent. When he caught sight of Abigail he inclined his head, but she folded her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Fucking Christ. Boys,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Come along, Abigail, let me get you settled finally,” he told her, and he gestured her to step to his side again so he could wrap an arm around her.

But she merely glared at him for a moment before she spun on her heel and marched out of the tent. Shaking his head he jogged after her, falling into step as she made her way back to his tent. The fact that she didn’t head to the cabin instead, though, made him smile softly to himself.

Once inside the tent she shot him a glare over her shoulder before she started yanking her boots and clothes off. “Swear to god, you two - you didn’t have to do that. He was right, I asked him to. You had him check on me, which he _of course_ took to mean that I was on the verge of giving into a demon or some shit and he started grilling me - it was all I could think to do, since I know a demon would have acted to defend itself -”

“Lass, calm down,” he interrupted her rambling.

She stood straight and narrowed her eyes at him, but the intimidating look she was going for was rendered ridiculous by the overlarge shirt of his that she had just put on. It made her look even tinier than normal, and her hair was adorably mussed from pulling it over her head.

“Did you just tell me to calm down?” she hissed.

“Abigail, I just meant you were rambling. Finish changing and I’ll tuck you in,” he told her softly.

“How can you just - hit your friend and Commander like that one minute and be totally fine and taking care of me the next?” she asked, frowning at him.

Rylen shrugged. “I’m doing both for you, that’s how,” he explained simply.

“You - you don’t have to,” she murmured, looking down. “I ran out on you the other night, I told you we were through.”

“Aye, we argued,” he conceded. “But an argument doesn’t change how I feel about you. My affection isn’t that fickle, lass. I meant it when I said I care deeply for you.”

When she looked up at him her eyes sparkled in the candlelight as if full of unshed tears, and sure enough after a moment she sniffled as tears began to run down her cheeks. She groaned and shook her head, wiping angrily at her tears. “Great, now I’m crying again - and I’m hungry but I feel like puking, and just - ugh. I hate everything.”

“I know, lass,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Let me get you in bed, and then I’ll go get you some cheese.”

“And some bread?” she requested softly, turning a plaintive pout up to him.

“Aye, and some ale or wine. It’ll help,” he assured her. He put one hand on her back and guided her to the cot, encouraging her onto it before he began to tuck blankets around her. He passed the water skin to her as well and granted her a warm smile. “Try your magic with this, see if you can’t heat it a wee bit.”

She frowned and almost looked nervous as she accepted it, but she focused and channeled her magic. Once the water was heated her eyebrows rose and she moved it to rest on her lower belly. A soft sigh of contentment slipped from her lips, and she snuggled back against the pillow and further into the blankets.

“You’re too good to me,” she murmured, peeking one eye open to look up at him.

“No, lass, I’m just trying my best,” he told her. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“I’ll be here, wishing for death,” she deadpanned, but she smirked when she caught his eye.

He chuckled as he straightened and crossed the tent, mulling over the change in her demeanor, in the change in how she was looking at him. They had only touched on their argument, but maybe after she had eaten something and taken some elfroot she’d feel better so that they could talk.

He wanted to try to understand.

As he crossed Haven to the tavern he tried to think how he could bring it up, what he could say to reassure her. Even as he spoke to Flissa and asked if she needed help before he requested food and wine to take to Abigail he thought about how he could approach it.

Words never came easily to him, but he knew in this case they were his only course of action. He couldn’t reassure her with lovemaking, he needed to prove to her that he cared beyond that. Maybe then she would believe him and start to trust him.

As he left the tavern carrying a small bundled napkin and a skin full of wine he heard familiar footsteps behind him and turned. The Commander stopped beside him, smirking at the sight of what he was carrying.

“Is she ill?” he asked as he passed over two vials of elfroot.

“No, moon cycle,” Rylen answered.

“Ah,” Cullen hummed, nodding his head. He reached up and gingerly rubbed his jaw once more, and Rylen chuckled at the bruise that was beginning to form on it.

“Thanks for the elfroot,” he said, gesturing the vials before he pocketed them.

“Thanks for the headache,” Cullen quipped. “I’ll let you get back to your lass. Maker knows if I keep you too long you might decide to make my other side match.”

They dissolved into laughter together and then continued along the path. After several moments Cullen glanced sidelong at Rylen and frowned.

“You really do care for her,” he mused.

Rylen shook his head. “Aye, I - I haven’t ever met a lass like her,” he answered. “It surprised me too.”

Cullen considered for a moment before he smiled. “No, it makes sense,” he told him. “You always seemed bored with anyone else. Didn’t you tell me about that one - the one who always talked about dresses?”

“Lottie,” Rylen answered, chuckling at the memory. “Aye, you’re right. I always seemed to be missing something, with others.”

Cullen nodded. “Well, I - I am sorry. And I hope I did not - add any complications.”

“No, it’s fine, mate. Just don’t do it again,” he warned with a wink.

“Lesson learned,” Cullen assured him, raising a hand to his jaw as he flexed it once more. “I will check on the patrols for you tonight. Tend to that _wee lass_ of yours.”

“You should tend to yours as well, mate. Doesn’t she leave in the morning?” Rylen teased, but Cullen merely shot him a glare and followed the fork in the path down toward the main gates.

Laughing to himself Rylen continued on to his tent, and once he’d pushed through the flaps he paused. The sight of her curled up in his cot, covered in blankets and looking so tiny and vulnerable tugged at something deep inside him.

“Here, lass,” he told her, stepping over to the cot finally. He sat on the edge and placed the bundle he held beside her. Untying the napkin he opened it to reveal a small loaf of crusty bread and a block of aged cheese. “And I brought some wine.”

She batted her eyelashes at him as she pushed herself into a sitting position. When she accepted the wine she gave him a tender smile. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Elfroot too,” he said, passing over one of the vials. The other he uncorked and drained in one gulp before he reached for the wine to wash it down. He gave it back to her once she’d downed her own elfroot so that she could do the same. “It should help soon.”

“I hope so,” she grumbled. “I was used to birth control for so many years, I’d forgotten just how bad my periods could get.” At his frown she giggled and shook her head, nibbling on the cheese before she answered his unspoken question. “Medication to prevent pregnancy. But it also helped with all of this. I was on it for years, until - well.”

He watched as she shrugged and took another gulp of wine. “Elfroot should help some,” he assured her. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told. And the Inquisition has plenty, the Hinterlands have been a good source for herbs.”

She giggled and nodded. “That I can believe.”

For several long moments they sat in silence as she nibbled at the food he had brought her. Finally he glanced at her and frowned slightly. “Can I ask you something, lass?” At her noncommittal shrug he continued. “Did you - did you also know me? From that story?”

If he wasn’t mistaken she flushed, and seemed to be carefully avoiding his gaze. “Um...yeah,” she finally answered, still staring down at the bread she held. “I - I did.”

He raised his eyebrows, considering for a moment. He remembered their early interactions, the way that she looked at him sometimes. “And did you - what did you think of me?”

She shot him a furtive glance before she cleared her throat, the blush on her cheeks deepening. “I - um - “

Rylen began chuckling and he reached over to brush her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, lass,” he assured her. “I was only curious if maybe you liked me, or knew anything about me.”

His assurances seemed to only fluster her more, and she picked up the skin of wine again and took a long pull. “Listen, about me not telling you -” she began after a moment.

“I shouldn’t have been angry,” he interrupted. “Well - angry isn’t the right word, I wasn’t - wasn’t angry, really. I was hurt, but thinking about it - I’m sorry, lass. I shouldn’t push you so much for something you’re not ready for.”

“Ugh, stop being so fucking sweet,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You make me feel like such an asshole by being this sweet and understanding. Can’t you just - cut that shit out?”

“I can’t change who I am, Abigail,” he told her, but he chuckled softly at the playful glare she shot him.

“I’m just not used to it,” she murmured. She gave him a quick glance and then went back to picking at the bread in front of her. “My husband wasn’t exactly that great. He - he had a mistress.”

Rylen’s eyes widened as he considered her, the words sinking in so that he was rendered momentarily speechless. The idea that someone could have wanted anyone but her baffled him. “I’m - I’m sorry, lass,” he said finally.

“It’s not your fault,” she sighed. “But I - guess I probably have trust issues or something,” she rolled her eyes and then glared away from him, “but that’s not your fault either.”

“I should have realized that was a - big thing to ask of someone so soon,” he told her. When she shot him a curious frown he shrugged. “Trusting me with something so huge, when you were fearful for your life. I - I’m sorry.”

She raised her eyebrows at him for a moment and then nodded. “Still, I shouldn’t have - run out. I was just - I’d already rehashed it all with Evelyn, and then you were mad, and I just - I’m not great with feelings...” She trailed off awkwardly and looked back at where her fingers were fidgeting with the bread.

“I do care about you, Abigail,” he said softly. “I meant that.”

“I don’t - _not_ care for you,” she told him, glancing up and smirking slightly.

“Aye, that works for now,” he agreed with a few chuckles. “I’ll let you finish and get settled in. You can have the cot tonight -”

“No, Ry, I - um,” she pressed her lips together before she met his gaze imploringly, “can you - stay? And hold me? I want - I want cuddles.”

“Even from me?” he teased.

“E-especially from you,” she breathed, and then grimaced. With a loud groan she flung herself back on the pillows. “I hate PMS. It makes me weak. There, I said it. I want you to hold me while I sleep. So get your ass in bed.”

Rylen let out a few barks of laugher, enjoying the pouting glare she shot him from where she was snuggled in the cot. “Aye, as my wee lass commands,” he agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

He quickly removed his armor and hung it on its stand before he stripped out of the clothes he wore beneath. When she let out a loud sigh he turned a curious look to the cot, only to see her covering her eyes with one hand. “You all right, lass?”

“Please put some pants on,” she moaned. “I’m horny enough as it is.”

“Horny?”

“Excited - aroused - totally, definitely want to fuck you,” she explained, her hand still tight over her eyes.

“I mean, if you want me I’d be happy to, lass, all you have to do is tell me,” he told her.

“It’s like I want to but also the idea of it makes me just - ugh, not right now,” she grumbled. “Please just put some pants on so you can come cuddle me to death.”

He chuckled and moved to his trunk, pulling out another pair of cotton sleep trousers to pull on. After blowing out the candles he finally moved to the side of the cot, moving the napkin and skin of wine to the floor so he could slide under the blankets.

“Mmm, finally,” she sighed, and she turned and snuggled into him before he’d even had a chance to fully settle on his side on the cot. “Sorry for being so needy,” she murmured sleepily.

“I - actually don’t mind it, lass,” he said slowly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against his chest. “Feeling needed by you is nice.”

“Ugh, of course it does, Mr. Perfect,” she groused. But she leaned her head back to peer up at him, a small smile tugging the corners of her mouth. “Thank you, Ry.”

He held her gaze, the darkness of the tent making her eyes look like large pools of midnight. Before he could stop himself he leaned down to kiss her, but she moaned and eagerly returned his kiss. For several long moments he languidly delved his tongue into her mouth, taking his time exploring and tasting her. When he noticed how intently she was responding, sounding breathless under his attention, he pulled away to search out her gaze.

“Are you certain you don’t want to?” he asked softly.

“I’m sleepy,” she confessed.

“All right, lass,” he agreed, and he leaned back down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “If that changes wake me up.”

She giggled and nuzzled her face against his chest, and he felt her lips brush against the tattoo on his skin. “Night, Ry,” she murmured.

“Good night, Abigail,” he said, and he drifted off smiling to himself at having his lass back in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes they still have Talking (TM) to do, but for now Abby just needed some Midol basically. Oh wait...


	17. My Eyes Were Dark 'til You Woke Me, and Told Me that Opening is Just the Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Sleep paralysis/vivid nightmare. Normally with the Fade dreams I'm like *shrug* about warning, but if you've experienced sleep paralysis and the "shadow person" of some sort, figured I'd give a heads up that this chapter contains descriptions of a similar experience.
> 
> Also, if you have experienced those things, *hugs* because that shit is truly terrifying.
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

As Abby made her way across Haven toward the tavern as always, she felt on edge. Looking over her shoulder, though, showed no cause for concern. Just the normal early morning bustle of the village.

She had to just be paranoid, she’d been worried that somehow someone else knew. Of course she was simply imagining things, she had to be, and so she turned back around to continue on her way. Her heart raced slightly, but she convinced herself she was walking briskly, that was all.

Before the tavern door was a stern-looking scout, though, who turned a critical eye to her. “Abby?”

“Um - yes?” she answered with a frown, her heart tripping in its rhythm once more as her palms began to sweat. “C-can I help you?”

“Come with me, please. Sister Nightingale has requested your presence at once.”

Abby’s heart was positively stumbling over its own rhythm in its race against itself, but she gave a jerky nod of her head.

It could be about anything.

Anything.

But she was shaking head to toe, chewing her bottom lip as she glanced over her shoulder once more. Was that -

No. It was just a shadow, or a tree.

Leliana’s eyes were piercing, and Abby felt as if she was able to see straight through her. As if she was able to see everything she had done in the past, every small wrong, every big one. She gulped, curling her hands into fists, but her stomach was twisting, her heart racing. She almost felt faint with fear.

“Some interesting news has reached my ears,” Leliana said after a moment spent studying Abby. “I wonder that you thought you could keep it from me even this long.”

“I - I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to -” Abby stuttered out, but her mind was blank with terror. She could hardly form the words.

And Leliana’s eyes just seemed to turn icier, narrowing as she commanded Abby’s gaze. “You’re a liar. A liar who has caused the death of hundreds -”

“What? No, I - I was trying to _save_ them -”

“It’s true,” a softer, yet also icy voice came from behind her. As Abby turned to face it, she did a double take to the corner cast in shadow nearby. For a moment it almost looked as if -

But Evelyn was standing behind her, arms folded as she met Abby’s gaze with a level glare. She sauntered forward, looking angrier than Abby had ever thought possible.

“You were right, Abby,” she told her with an uncharacteristic sneer. “Your actions caused us to lose hundreds of our agents, the information the Templars had was faulty -”

“No, I - I didn’t mean to - please, Evelyn, this is what I meant -”

The doors of the Chantry flew open suddenly, and Cullen ran in, sword drawn. “We are under attack!”

“You brought them here,” Leliana hissed at Abby. “They followed their brothers here!”

“No! I - I didn’t mean to!”

Haven was swarming with Red Templars when they all ran out, Evelyn, Cullen, and Leliana prepared to fight. Abby was defenseless, and frozen in place by her fear. This was her fault, the fall of Haven - it was happening too soon. They weren’t ready.

The Inquisition would fail, and it was all because of her.

“Commander! Lass!”

Abby turned to see Rylen running toward them, sword drawn as well. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, heart still hammering away at her ribs as her vision temporarily went black.

No, what if -

“Captain, try to get the villagers out,” Cullen commanded, yelling over the din of battle that surrounded them.

“Aye, right away! Lass, with me, we need to get you out of here,” Rylen shouted, and he grabbed her hand and began to lead her back down the path.

“Wait! Wait, Ry - there’s a path in the Chantry, we can get people out!” she cried, fighting against him pulling her down the path.

“I need to protect you -”

“Ry, please - I - I caused this - let me try to fix it!” she pleaded, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

He hesitated and turned to face her, as if he was considering her words. Behind him a Red Templar charged, though, and Abby hardly managed a gasp before Rylen turned to take on their attacker. The sound of metal clanging against metal rent the air, mingling with the horrified screams of people throughout the village.

Abby watched wide-eyed as Rylen struggled to fend off their assailant, unable to keep up with the frenzy with which the twisted creature of a man attacked him. Finally he managed to throw the Templar off balance, but before he could finish him a large Behemoth charged his way.

“Ry - look out!”

But her warning came too late.

The Behemoth raised one red crystal of an arm before it slammed it into the ground, and Abby stumbled with the impact, horrified as she watched Rylen sink to his knees surrounded by a shockwave of red.

“Ry!”

The Templar he had been fighting saw his chance, and in one swift upward motion he swung his sword, catching Rylen’s lightly armored inner thigh and abdomen.

Abby hardly recognized the scream that was pulled from her, hardly noticed the men led by Cullen who hurried over to engage the foes surrounding them. As Rylen collapsed on the ground she sprinted forward, catching him in her arms and pressing a hand to the horrible, gaping laceration that ran the full length of his leg.

“Lass -”

“It’s - it’s just your leg, it’s - it’s fine,” she stuttered, digging her hand into his slick blood as if she could stop how it was gushing onto the snow beneath them with her small hand. “You’ll be okay -”

“We both know - that’s not -” he gasped.

“Stop, please - you’ll be fine - you’re fine!” she cried.

“Before I - lass - please, Abigail, look at me,” he implored her, and she hated how his voice weakened and he gasped as he spoke.

Despite herself she obeyed his request and turned her gaze to his, holding it with wide eyes as she took in how he was staring up at her. A soft smile played at his lips even though he was clearly in pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Abigail - lass, I - I love you,” he murmured, coughing and spluttering slightly as he stared up at her.

Something went out behind his eyes, the aqua losing its spark of life as he went limp in her arms. She stared down at him for a moment, registering his glazed look as she began to shake him.

“Ry - RY! No,” she sobbed, shaking her head as she continued to shake him, “no, no, no! Ry - Ry, wake up - wake up!”

But no matter how hard she shook him, no matter how loudly she cried his name, he still stared blankly above him and didn’t respond to her pleas.

Glancing down at the blood surrounding them in the snow and coating her hands, she started to realize what it all meant -

My fault.

Mine.

I did this.

A terrible scream was pulled from her throat, until her vocal chords ached from the intensity. She stared down at the blood covering her fingers, at the blood splattered on his face, the red seeping into the snow she was kneeling in -

And another hair-raising scream was torn from her. Again and again she screamed, staring at her shining fingers as she realized the truth of the matter - she did this.

It was her.

His weight was heavy in her arms, dead weight dragging her down as she screamed, oblivious to anything else around her. She cradled him to her, sobs accompanying the stream of tears sliding down her cheeks, the painful cries still torn from her until her throat was raw. The wintry gale made the tears stream painfully from her eyes like shards of ice down her cheeks.

A shout nearby made her look up, and she watched as Cullen was felled by the Behemoth. Behind him Evelyn lay wide-eyed in the snow, pale skin splattered with her own blood.

No - please - no -

One last chilling scream left Abby as she took in the damage she had caused. The Herald of Andraste, the Commander - her love -

Her body was tensed, and she tried to come to terms with the fact that she was lying in a cot, staring at the canvas of an incredibly familiar tent in the sunlight.

She tried to move, to look around, but she found she couldn’t.  It was morning, so she had to be awake. Nothing could harm her, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, keeping her from moving. It was as if she was frozen in place.

A whimper came to her - but no sound accompanied it, as if she had only thought of doing so. In one corner of the tent she thought she could see sudden movement, and her whole body went taut as if poised to flee. Her heart leapt into her throat, pulse quickening as she tried to see beyond the limited scope of her fixed gaze.

A shadow shifted just at the edge of her vision, tall and black. Slowly it came into view, standing just beside the cot as it peered down at her. It’s movements were somehow jerky and smooth, as if it was gliding yet jumping like a video buffering and skipping.

It looked to be wearing long, black robes, but where its ribs were exposed it was skeletal, its arms almost looking mummified as it approached her with one outstretched. Odd spider legs came out of its back, curling over its shoulders as if a moving, twitching cage.

It leaned closer to her until the sharp ends of the legs were near enough to her that she instinctively tried to squirm away. Only she couldn’t.

Its hand reached toward her cheek, and beneath the strange pincers surrounding the face she saw its skeletal, decaying mouth stretch into a wide, yellowed smile.

“Your fears taste delicious.”

The voice was like a death rattle, like the echo of a scream, of agony, yet whispered and hushed. Its lips hadn't even moved, they simply stayed in that gruesome smile as it continued to reach out to her.

She tried to move away from its touch, tried to turn her face, to roll away as she wished desperately she could scream -

“Lass! Lass, it’s all right, it’s all right, shh, I’m here,” a deep voice cut in.

Her eyes felt as if they finally flew wide open, even though she had thought they were open before. Arms were around her, a hand rested on her back and shook her slightly. Her heart was racing as if she had run several miles, and her breaths were ragged and short.

It took her a moment to realize she was sobbing.

“I’m here, this is real,” Rylen continued. He sat up, bringing her with him, and he cradled her against his chest with a hand holding her head to him. “Can you feel me? This is real, it’s all right. I have you. You’re safe now.”

His skin was hot against her cheek, slick with the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. She rested one hand against his chest and dug her nails into flesh covered in a familiar, light dusting of hair as she tried to assure herself with the realness of him. The steady beat of his heart soothed her, even as she shook and cried in his embrace.

“This is real, Abigail,” he murmured again, tangling his hand in her hair to hold her closer to him. “I’m real. You’re awake. I’ve got you, nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

“It was - I thought I was awake - I thought it was here,” she cried. “I couldn’t - I couldn’t move -”

“It’s all right, now,” he assured her. He reached for her wrist and held her hand out so she could see it. “Move your fingers, lass - see? You can move again. You’re in control. And nothing is here but me, just you and me. Just us.”

But she couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t take deep breaths as she wanted to. Instead she clung more tightly to him and continued sobbing, unable to shake the intense fear and image of the demon standing over her. Still Rylen simply held her to him, rocking her and stroking her hair, occasionally leaning down to press his lips to her forehead.

For what felt like ages he held her, softly cooing reassurances in her ear as he rocked her in his arms. He let her tears quiet naturally, not doing anything except make certain she knew she was awake and he was there.

Finally her sobs were more dry, choked gasps than tears, and she pushed herself slowly away from his chest. He kept a hand on her back, gently stroking her as he peered down into her face.

“Are you all right, lass?” he asked, frowning down at her.

“I - I want to say I am, but no - not really,” she confessed tearfully.

“Has this happened before?” His words were slow, and when she chanced a glance up at him she saw him watching her carefully.

“Not quite this bad,” she told him, and she heaved a deep sigh. “I - I didn’t want to tell you I was having trouble. I didn’t know what you’d do, how you’d react, or if you’d - think I was dangerous.”

“Lass,” he murmured, immediately pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “No, Abigail. I wish you’d told me, I wanted to help you, but,” he let out a few chuckles and a thoughtful hum, “you’re too stubborn to let me. I hoped maybe eventually you’d trust me enough to tell me yourself.”

“This again?” she grumbled.

They hadn’t really discussed their argument the night before, or at least - not the real cause of it. And after what had just happened, she really didn’t feel in the mood. Then again maybe that was exactly the kind of distraction she needed at the moment.

“This was before I knew why you wouldn’t tell me,” he assured her. “I didn’t realize just how much you were maybe hiding. I didn’t realize you didn’t want me to know you knew it all, that you knew the Fade but hadn’t experienced it. I’m - that is, I’m assuming that was in the stories as well?”

She nodded her head where it rested against his chest, and he simply gave another thoughtful hum. For a moment they were silent, as she continued to try to fully calm herself and he considered some thought he had yet to share with her.

“Well,” he began slowly. “Tell me about your dreams in the Fade, lass. Let me see what I can do -”

“You can’t, Cullen’s even tried to help me, and Evelyn too, and -”

“Maybe even just opening up to me will help,” he suggested. “Try, Abigail. Trust me.”

She pushed away from his chest again, sitting back and rubbing at the tears drying on her cheeks as she considered. At this point, what did she have to lose? Evelyn knew, Rylen knew, it felt only a matter of time before Leliana or Cullen found out.

Telling someone felt better than going mad from trying to hold it all in and suffer through this alone.

“At - at first it was - Desire,” she began haltingly. She shot him a furtive glance, wondering what he would say, but he was simply watching her with a soft quirk in his brows. When she remembered the first experiences she had with Desire in the Fade, though, she suddenly found she couldn’t find the words to continue.

“Desire?” he prompted softly. “Your - your husband, then, lass? Your old life? Or something else?”

A wave of relief swept over her at his words, at his soft admission that he had guessed what thoughts and dreams had plagued her. She nodded and felt able to continue after one deep breath. “Yeah, at - at first. But then they - changed,” she admitted.

“Changed?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“When I - when I started to think about - you,” she told him, glancing up at him before she looked away awkwardly. She noticed a soft smile on his face, but he simply nodded and waited for her to continue. “But after I told Evelyn about Val Royeaux, I started - I started seeing Terror, and Despair.”

“Once you started to think that you had given yourself away,” he inferred.

“Once I started worrying I’ve ruined everything,” she corrected. “Ry, I’m - I’m so scared. What if I fucked up? What if I changed it all? It’s supposed to go a certain way, and what I did -”

“You said you did it to save lives,” he assured her firmly. “There is nothing wrong with that.”

“No, Ry, I changed - I possibly changed the entire way things are meant to go,” she protested.

Why did both Evelyn and Rylen have such trouble accepting her concerns? Why did neither of them seem to think that she could be right, that maybe she _had_ ruined things?

“Lass,” he began, and he reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder. “I know this was a story in your land, but who was to say that it was going to go the same way as you’d heard it told? I’m sure in your version, someone like you wasn’t able to get here. So who’s to say it was going to unfold that way anyway?”

“I - I just -” she stuttered, but then she fell silent.

After all, he was making sense.

“Did you really think I would hurt you if I’d known you knew of this world, or what is happening?” he asked softly.

“Not you, necessarily,” she muttered. “But - I mean, me knowing what happens -”

“What _could_ happen,” he corrected.

“Still though,” she sighed. “I figured you’d all think I was in on it, or had caused it, or worse - try and make me tell you what happens. But that would only make it worse -”

“Did you tell the Herald?” he asked suddenly.

“No,” she told him. “She asked, but I told her it’d make it worse.”

“Good,” he answered with a firm nod of his head. “I agree.”

“You do?” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He shrugged and reached over to take one of her hands in his, stroking her fingers lightly with his thumb. “As tempting as it is to think you can predict the future and prevent things happening, life doesn’t work like that, even here,” he told her. “I think we’d all be best not relying on what you heard in a story and try to solve our problems ourselves.”

“Th - thank you, Ry,” she murmured, and she squeezed his fingers. Somehow it felt as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders at his reassuring words.

“Aye, lass,” he told her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “So, now that you’re done feeling batty about that,” he smiled at the playful glare she shot him, “tell me about this nightmare.”

Abby’s heart immediately began to race as she remembered, the brief respite of a different sort of anxiety ending abruptly at his words.

“Take your time,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke her hair with his free hand, smiling when she met his gaze as if he understood it was difficult for her.

“I - I thought it was all really happening,” she began, her voice barely audible. “It was - Leliana knew, and she accused me of making things worse, of killing hundreds.”

“Which I’ve already assured you likely won’t be the case,” he said after a moment. He squeezed her fingers once more. “What then, lass?”

“H-Haven was falling,” she murmured. “The Templars attacked and we weren’t ready for them. And everyone - y-you -”

She trailed off, her voice catching on a sob. She didn’t think she’d be able to continue, feeling certain she would begin sobbing uncontrollably again if she tried. Still Rylen waited patiently, caressing her fingers with one hand, stroking her hair with his other. After several long moments of his silent assurances she decided to try again.

“I watched you die in front of me,” she whispered. “You were trying to protect me, and you - you died in my arms.” The memory of his last words, of the way he had seemed so desperate to make certain she knew how he felt with his last breath brought tears to her eyes again. Wiping desperately at her cheeks with her free hand she glanced away from him. “Evelyn and Cullen were cut down, too.”

“Well, clearly that didn’t happen since I’m right here, Abigail,” he told her softly with a chuckle. “It was merely an illusion of the Fade, of one of its creatures -”

“Fear,” she interrupted. “It was Fear.”

At this his eyebrows rose, and he considered her for a long moment in silence. “Well, lass. Your fear at wreaking havoc for the Inquisition is almost admirable.”

“What?” she prompted with a frown.

“Fear is - not one of the lesser demons. They usually try to find larger prey,” he explained. “So your fears must be - quite powerful. I admire the concern for what trouble your actions may have caused, but you don’t need to worry yourself so much.”

“Don’t I?” Abby mused wryly. She shook her head and looked away from him. “I appreciate the thought -”

“What about the end of the dream, lass?” he interrupted. “You were whimpering, flinching, but your eyes were open. Was that it? We all died?”

“No, it was - I thought I woke up,” she answered. “It was standing over me pulling the normal scary demon bullshit. I couldn’t move, and it tried to touch me. I just - I’m exhausted. I’m so sick of waking up not feeling rested because I was being tormented by demons in the Fade, spending all night saying _no_. I’m just - I’m so damn tired. I want - I want it to be over.”

Rylen pulled her to his chest once more, cradling her against him as renewed tears streamed down her cheeks. He didn’t say anything, he merely let her release her frustration and sorrows against him as he kept his lips pressed against her forehead.

“I’m so scared I’ll give in,” she confessed, and immediately hated herself for it.

“You won’t, lass,” he asserted.

“How can you say that? What if I’m just - tired, and I give in so they’ll just shut the fuck up?” she muttered.

At this he laughed, and when she glanced up at him she saw his head thrown back, his whole body shaking with his mirth. She frowned and opened her mouth, pushing away from him so that she could take in the way he was laughing at something she had not, actually, intended to be funny.

“I’m glad at least you’re enjoying yourself,” she groused.

He quieted his laughter and gave her a pointed look. “Lass, you’re wonderful, but that has to be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard,” he told her.

“How dare -” she began, but he chuckled again and shook his head.

“Abigail, you are the stubbornest lass I’ve ever had the amazing misfortune to meet,” he told her. He was staring at her almost incredulously, a loving smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You would never say yes to a demon.”

“How can you be so sure?” she challenged.

“You don’t even accept people’s kindness unless you want to,” he pointed out. “What makes you think you’d ever say yes to a demon wanting to ride you around like a two copper whore at a brothel?”

“I - I just -” she protested feebly, but she began to lose the ability to see as tears filled her vision once more. “I’m so tired, and scared. I don’t want to give in in a moment of weakness.”

“I’ve seen you at your weakest, and I think it’s safe to say you’re more likely to tell a demon to go fuck itself than accept its offer.”

She stared up at him for a moment, surprised by his insistence, and then she began to giggle. When he saw her smile his grin widened, and he pushed her hair behind her ear. He trailed his thumb over her cheek, aqua eyes twinkling as he peered down into her gaze. “See, lass? You’ll be fine,” he told her. “If you’re so stubborn about letting me take care of you, you’ll be too stubborn to give all over to a demon. Trust me. Better yet - trust yourself.”

She blinked away her tears, still giving him a watery smile before she shyly looked away. “Thank you, Ry,” she murmured. “That actually - that actually helped.”

“I wish I could do more, I wish I could tell you it will stop,” he told her tenderly, still stroking her cheek. “But I know it won’t. That’s the sad truth you need to accept, Abigail. This will always happen, it will always be a struggle as a mage in the Fade. Just remember who you are - the stubborn lass who’d even tell a fella who - cares - about her to fuck off.”

Abby let out a few soft laughs, looking down at where he held her hand. His words were warming her soul, easing her fears even as her heart began racing. The memory of holding his dying figure in her arms in the Fade came back to her, but it focused on the moment he had confessed his love. She had noticed the slightest hesitancy around the word _‘cares’_ when he said it, and she raised her gaze back to his.

He was still staring at her so affectionately, not scared off at all by the night terror that he had pulled her from. Instead he was comforting her, caressing her and telling her one of her biggest flaws was actually her greatest strength.

“Ry,” she breathed, leaning forward slightly so she could peer up into his face.

He raised one eyebrow, staring down at her as he moved the hand that had been playing softly with her hair to cup her cheek instead. “Abigail?”

Scooting until she was almost in his lap she looped an arm around his neck, sliding her other hand into his hair. With very little encouragement he lowered his lips to hers, moving to tug her bottom lip between them. A soft sigh left her as his tongue met hers, and she tightened her hold on him as if he was the only thing tethering her to reality.

His strong hands on her back and under her thighs to lift her onto his lap felt so very real, as did his hips and waist between her thighs as he laid her back on the cot. Hot, work-roughened fingers and palms slid under the large shirt she wore and moved over her naked flesh, soft sighs and gasps greeting each of his tender caresses. He slowly slid the shirt off of her, and the scratchy feeling of a couple days’ stubble that accompanied his wet mouth on her breasts made her arch off the cot in search of what he could give her.

Rylen carefully lifted her hips and slipped a blanket under them before he stripped them bare. When he took his place between her legs again she eagerly pulled him down on top of her, relishing the way his warmth felt as he pressed her into the cot. His searing kiss blocked out everything but the feeling of him encompassing her, engulfing her in his embrace and measured caresses.

Gently he searched her out and began to thrust into her, but at her soft whine he slowed and moved shallowly, carefully watching her face as he did. His tender care and concern for her touched something deep within her, and soon her soft gasps turned into moans as she encouraged him closer to her core. She wanted more, needed him desperately, and she clung to him as he slowly rocked his hips into hers.

Nothing but the feeling of his lips, his hands, his skin against hers as he moved within her existed for her in that moment. For what felt like sweet, blissful eternity he kissed and caressed her until she found herself teetering closer to the edge. Her release was as soft and gentle as his movements, and he continued his steady pace until he shuddered above her before he stilled at last.

It felt like forever that she laid there holding him to her, breathing deeply and enjoying his heat and the scent of sandalwood that always clung to him. Whatever doubts she’d had about reality and the Fade slipped her mind, until the nightmare felt like something from the distant past.

He propped himself above her and smiled, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “How are you now, lass?”

“Much, much better,” she murmured.

“Good,” he said, and then with a smirk he looked down to where he still rested between her legs. “You’re all right? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “That was perfect.”

He chuckled and gave her a boyish grin, humor sparkling in his eyes as he met her gaze again. “Glad to hear it,” he agreed, “because it looks like I murdered you with my cock.”

Abby dissolved into giggles, covering her eyes with her fingers as she took a few moments to calm herself. “Only you,” she teased. “I swear -”

“I just wanted to see you smile,” he purred, and she opened her eyes to see him leaning close again. He pressed his lips to hers, again and again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck so that she could meet his tender passion.

“I missed you,” she breathed against his lips, the confession slipping from her before she could stop it. Cautiously she met his gaze, chewing her bottom lip as she waited to see what his response was.

“I missed you too, Abigail,” he told her, and he absently brushed her hair off her forehead. “I’m happy to be back, with my lass in my arms again.”

A soft smile spread across Abby’s face as she held his gaze, enjoying the confusing jumble of emotions making her heart race.

At least they were real.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stolen Moments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342528) by [LarasLandlockedBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues)
  * [Of All the Things to Fangirl Over...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549337) by [LarasLandlockedBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues)




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